Airmessens War
by Painted Smile
Summary: Inhuman creatures, Airmessens, are encroaching on the borders of the Western Kingdoms. Humanity is fighting a losing battle. Duo Maxwell is sent as a squire to the legendary Sir Heero Yuy. But not even he may be enough to turn the tide. 1x2, some Relena-
1. Default Chapter

                                             **_The Airmessens War_**

Disclaimer: Not mine.

                                                          *

The old man smiled, baring his gums at the children gazing raptly at him. "Now, where was I?" He wondered absently. 

"Sir Heero was 'bout to fight the dragon Matthias!" a small boy informed him, nodding to enforce his point. Matthias smiled indulgently.

"I do believe you're right, Kurt." Looking around, to ensure everyone was listening, Matthias continued his story.

"With a mighty blow, the young Heero severed the head of the monstrous dragon, Urikna, he who no other could slay. And as he stood, covered in the blood of the monster, the boy, not much older than your brother there, Kurt." The story-teller paused, to smile at the eleven year old, leaning against the wall, keeping a watchful eye on little Kurt.

"And so, this boy, this legendary warrior, turned silently to face the army of the king. And every soldier saluted him. He was knighted there, on the battlefield, by King Treize himself. He was the youngest knight ever, and the greatest since the days of Sir Odin Lowe himself. Sir Heero became a living legend, and went on to do miracles, of which you've heard. And, not only did he win his knighthood that day, but also, Princess Relena's heart." Matthias added, chuckling to himself as he saw the little girls sighing happily.

"I'm gonna be Sir Heero's squire!" Kurt cried enthusiastically. Matthias shook his head. "Nay lad, Sir Heero of the Wings has never taken a squire, nor ever shall, I don't doubt."

"He may have to." the inn-keeper remarked softly to his companion, from where they stood, listening to the well-known tale. "We've lost so many knights in the wars, the kingdom needs every knight they can get. Sir Heero's the only knight in the kingdom without a squire now."

His companion grunted, shifting his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. He knew the wisdom of his friend's words. The kingdom of Dastrane had been hit hard by the Airmessens wars. Ever since those creatures, those foul beings that called themselves Airmessens had dragged themselves up from who knows where, the fighting had been near continuous. Many brave heroes had died, their last sight being the face of an Airmessens. Not a fate to wish on anyone.

They weren't exactly _ugly_. But dying, the shepherd imagined, most be a rather emotional experience. And the Airmessens, with their blank silvery eyes, their ebony skin, and their hideous fins, were as emotionless as a stone. It would be better, he thought, to die at the hands of an enemy who revelled in your defeat, than at the hands of one who thought of you only as a figure in his head.

Allied against the Airmessen forces stood the Western Kingdoms; Dastrane, Sanq, Fabrisia, Greye, Trethllewyn and Hastros. 

So heavy had been the losses of Dastrane and the other kingdoms of the West, that every single knight was forced to take a squire, sometimes more than one, to replace the fallen. But half-trained boys are no substitute for seasoned warriors. The humans were losing this war, although no one admitted it. It didn't bear saying.

No one was actually sure what the Airmessens _wanted_. They had no interest in gold or wealth, they did not settle in the lands they captured, and they did not seem to enjoy the conquest.

The inn-keeper was right; Sir Heero would soon be forced to take a squire. If he could pass on anything at all to his protégé, the alliance would be greatly strengthened. So far, every battle Heero had fought in, he'd won, earning him the name Perfect Soldier.

In some far off places, the Airmessens were nothing more than a rumour, a shadow on the wind. The shepherd fervently wished he were there. Or anywhere. Anywhere but war-torn Dastrane. Looking at those children, those happy, loving children, the man couldn't help but wonder, whether any of them would reach adulthood.

                                                             *

Sir Heero Yuy of Wing watched the two men impassively. His cobalt eyes picked up on their nervousness, as the two spies quickly reported their findings. 

The Airmessens were massing to the north, and more joined them every day, swelling their ranks. They were poised to crush Fabrisia. The kingdom was still deep in mourning for the gentle king Narmons, who had died in battle, leaving his nine-year-old son to rule. It was a vicious blow to the Western Kingdoms, who had long looked to Narmons for counsel. The wise old man had reigned well for many years. He deserved better than to die at the hands of an Airmessens. 

Heero clenched his fists, momentarily forgetting the quill in his hands. When it broke with a snap, he started, and looked down. King Treize glanced up, and smiled, then turned his attention back to the spies. Zechs, Treize's bodyguard, smirked at Heero, who raised an eyebrow.

"That will be all." Treize dismissed the informants, who bowed and scuttled out of the room. "So, Yuy. What is your opinion?" Treize questioned him. Heero was known for his tactical skills, as well as his swordsmanship, equestrian ability, sheer strength, and everything else.

Heero considered. "Sending all our troops to Fabrisia would undoubtedly end the problem. But it would leave all other fronts open to attack. Moving Greye's cavalry to..." Heero studied the map on the table before them, "...here, would greaten our chances immensely. Although the odds would still be against us."

Treize made a sound of approval, and even Zechs nodded grudgingly. 

"Following this route further, placing Fabrisia's remaining forces at the neck of this pass, and the mouth of the Jerichin River will tip the odds, this time in our favour." Treize nodded to Zechs. "You heard the man. Get to it." He ordered. Zechs bowed, and shot Heero an evil glare over Treize's head before he left. 

"Now, Heero," said Treize slowly. "You're what? Nineteen now? And you've been a knight for eight years, and never had a squire." Heero opened to his mouth to protest what he knew was coming, but Treize raised a hand. 

"Hear me out Heero. I know you don't want a squire. I know having one would slow you down. But if you can teach your squire anything, anything at all, it would help the war effort. Which is your duty."

Heero resisted the urge to groan. Treize knew just how to push his buttons. For the sake of his country, and his mission to save it, he would do anything.

Treize smiled, seeing Heero had already resigned himself to his fate. "Excellent. As you should know, almost all of the suitable young nobles have already been assigned to a knight. The only one left is..." he pauses, to check a piece of parchment "Duo Maxwell, foundling son of the Lord of Maxwell. He's around your age, but has had no formal training. All yours Yuy."

                                                             *

Booted feet clattered down the stairs, and a slim braided figure shot out of the door at their foot and into the gardens. Behind him, he could hear the thundering feet of the most evil creatures on earth; his cousins. For the past month or so, he had had blissful peace, as the cousins were shipped off to their new knight masters. But now, they were back for a flying visit. 

"C'mere you little gutter rat!" jeered the harsh voice of Gerohn, the eldest. Duo winced. Every day, whether intentionally or not, someone reminded him he was not truly Lord Maxwell and Lady Helen's son. He was just a foundling, a baby abandoned in the stables, and taken in by the kind hearted couple. 

Ducking under a low tree, and dodging in between the bushes, Duo zigzagged his way through the castle gardens. And up, and over the wall, and down into the village. Duo changed his course, heading for the blacksmith's. 

"Morning Milton." Duo greeted as he strolled into the building. "Ah, Duo. G'morning. Fine day, ain't it?" the huge, burly blacksmith remarked without turning around. Duo grunted his agreement, as he looked curiously at the items sitting in the smiths water barrel to cool.

Picking one up, he asked "What're these?" 

"Oh, those things? Forgotten what they're called, but they hook under Airmessens  armour much better than a sword. I'm making 'em for your cousins." Duo dropped the thing back into the cooling barrel. He didn't want to think about his cousins right now.

"Lord Maxwell wants to see ye, lad." Said a lilting voice. Duo glanced at the voice's owner. 

"Thanks Mac. I'll head up now, I 'spose." 

Trudging up the hill towards the portcullis, Duo turned and walked backwards, smiling  gently as he surveyed the town of Maxwell. There was the baker's, the tailor's, the village green. Mrs Mindle's house, the merchant's villa, and of course, Maxwell Church. Duo had been found by the priest there, a distant relation of Lord Maxwell's. Father Maxwell was the kindest man you could ever hope to meet, although he was getting on now. 'Not long for this world' Mrs Mindle had said. Duo only hoped Father Maxwell would be able to live out the rest of his life in peace. Not much chance of that.

"Duo!" called Lady Helen. Duo spun around, beaming at his foster-mother. "Your Father wants to see you. It's important. Go in." she nodded encouragingly. 

His footsteps echoed as he passed through the stone corridor. Hearing his father's voice as a low murmur to his left, Duo turned, pushing open the thick wooden door. "Father?"

His father, a tall, regal, and balding man, looked up, smiling absently. The scholarly Lord Maxwell generally wanted nothing more than to be left alone with his family, and of course, his books. "Duo, my boy. I have some... interesting news. You've heard of Sir Heero Yuy?"

Duo nodded. Of course, who hadn't heard of the legendary knight, the hope of the kingdom, not to mention the human race?

"Well, it seems that King Treize has ordered him to get a squire. And you're the last... one....left." Lord Maxwell looked down at his hands, as they twisted a scrap of material, while Duo tried to absorb this new information. His foster-parents had tried hard to keep him out of the war, to give their son as peaceful and normal a life as possible. Duo wanted to help out and do his bit, but he was given no choice.

"Oh..." said Duo softly. "When am I leaving?"

Lord Maxwell sighed. Deep down, he'd been hoping Duo would have at least tried to rebel against his fate, which seemed to be to die at the hands of an Airmessens. It broke the man's heart to think of his bright, shining son dying somewhere on a battlefield. 

"Tomorrow, at first light. Your war-horse and weapons will be supplied by your new knight-master. We... your mother and I.... we won't be here for your departure, a village in our province has been raided, and we must try and help the survivors. We leave tonight... we want to give you this, before you go." Lord Maxwell reached into his pocket, drawing out a silver chain, and on the end of it, a small, ornate cross.

"Oh, Father..." Duo couldn't believe this was happening. That cross was his Father's, he wore it everywhere. Duo had never seen him without it. "No, Father, that's your cross, it-"

"Duo." Said Lord Maxwell softly, his voice firm. "It is yours." 

Duo swallowed as he felt the weight of the cross around his neck. He leapt forward ad hugged his father. "I'll... I'll see you again?" he asked desperately. So many of his friends had left to fight, full of courage and hellfire. And so many never returned. Duo had no wish to join their ranks. 

"We'll see, son. We'll see."

                                                                          *

Duo stared glumly at his horse's mane, as the drizzle drifted lightly around him, wreathing his head in mist. It was a glum, cold kind of day. _A day for endings,_ Duo thought.

Idly, Duo wondered about his knight-master. He was reputed to be a hard man, although not being much older than Duo himself. They said he never showed emotion. They also said the princess of Sanq was besotted with him. And that, really, was all Duo knew, apart from countless stories. Heero Yuy was the stuff legends are made of. 

_And if I'm lucky, I might get to be the idiotic squire. Lucky me,_ Duo though glumly. 

"Master Duo? We'll reach the palace by nightfall." A bustling servant informed him. The man was a tailor, travelling to Ferith, Dastrane's capital, to work for the king. Duo nodded his thanks to the man. "Is... is Sir Heero likely to be there, do you think?" he asked hesitantly. The tailor shrugged. "I don't know, Master Duo." The man replied, somewhat irritably. How could he be expected to know the whereabouts of the Western Kingdoms most famous knight?

Duo returned his attention to the mane of his horse, finding it preferable to the man by his side, who had begun rambling on about some cousin he was to stay with in Ferith. 

                                                                   *

Heero strode silently into his room, cobalt eyes sweeping over the Spartan area. A bed, desk and candle. Everything on the desk was ordered into neat piles, and clearly labelled. He hesitated as his gaze passed over the adjoining door. After tonight, his squire would live in there. 

Having been raised alone, Heero had never been forced to share his living space with another. Even on campaigns, and in war-camps, people had preferred to squeeze a few extra bodies into a very small space, than share with him. It was understandable. Heero had a reputation for being tough and ruthless, with zero tolerance for failure or weakness. A well-deserved reputation.

Heero sat at the desk, pulling a sheaf of parchment toward him, and taking a quill and inkpot from a drawer. Hours passed, as the young lord of Wing organized the well-being of his province. Only after the candle had melted four notches, did Heero stop. And then, only because of the timid knock on his door. 

"Yes?"

"Ah, my lord," began a mousy looking man in the livery of a servant, as he cautiously opened the door. "Your squire is here, sir."

                                                             *

So, whatcha think? I'm kind of toying with this idea, to see if anyone likes it. I apologise for the shortness of the chapter, but I really don't want to keep going with this if no one's going to read it. Please review.


	2. 2

                                                     **_Airmessens_****_ War _**__

_                                             Part II_

Disclaimer: Not mine

*

Duo muttered under his breath, as he wrung out his braid. A thunder-storm had struck only moments before they entered the city walls, spooking the horses. To be specific, Duo's horse. The black colt, Shinigami, was swift and extremely agile. And, unluckily for Duo, had only just been trained, and had never before left Maxwell. All that equalled one very scared horse, hard to control and damn near impossible to catch.

Somehow Duo had stayed on, and, after Shini had lead them all a merry chase, while Duo hung on for his life, they had _finally _gotten into the city. And now, they were huddled in a dripping, soaking mass, watched curiously by the palace servants. There were more than a few having a snicker at the stranger's misfortune.

_Oh well,_ thought Duo resignedly. _At least Sir Heero isn't...crap_. A man, well, a youth really, had appeared at the top of the stairs. His blue tunic was adorned with a pair of white wings, signifying him as the Lord of Wing. Sir Heero Yuy himself.

The knight's face remained emotionless as he surveyed his saturated squire. Inwardly, Heero groaned. _This_ was his squire? A pair of stunning violet eyes looked straight at him, as the owner slowly approached. 

"Are you Sir Heero?" The boy asked. Never mind he was no older than Heero. Heero nodded shortly. "Yes. You are Duo Maxwell?" The sodden youth nodded. "Come with me."

Duo trailed after Heero, head down. He blinked sleepily, yawning. He didn't notice when Heero halted and turned to face him, and just kept walking, straight into Heero. Heero instinctively put up his arms to catch him, just as Zechs walked by.

"Squires aren't so bad, Yuy?" The blonde said, eyeing Duo. Heero shot him a furious glare, pushing Duo away. "Shut up, Zechs, if you value your life."

Duo blinked again, his exhausted mind wondering vaguely what was going on. Leaning forward, he rested his head against Heero's chest again. "Maxwell..." a cold voice spoke.  Duo woke up momentarily, enough to yank himself away from his knight-master.

"Heh....sorry... I'm just real tired..." Duo mumbled. Heero glanced blankly at him, before opening the door in front of them. 

"These are my chambers. There are three rooms in total, not including your room, which is adjoined to my bedchamber. Understand?" Heero said. Duo nodded. "Your possessions should already be in the room, they came yesterday, correct?" Without waiting for a response, Heero barrelled on "As my squire, I will expect you to..." Duo's head slumped forward, and he leant against the wall. Heero looked at him for a moment. _The baka's asleep!_ He thought incredulously. 

With a long-suffering sigh, Heero scooped Duo up, carrying the braided youth through the door. He noted with surprise how light the boy was. Clearly he did not eat enough. 

Carrying him through to his bedchambers, Heero was disgusted to find no one had thought to procure blankets for his new squire. _If he goes to bed wet he'll get sick, as well. We can't afford that,_ Heero noted. 

With a barely audible sigh, Heero turned back, walking into his chambers. Laying the unconscious boy on his bed, he yanked Duo's dark tunic over his head. The boy's boots and breeches quickly followed, although he left the undergarments for decency's sake.

Heero paused, watching the slow rise and fall of the boy's breathing. The candle-light gleamed over the boy's braid, highlighting the streaks of red and gold. Heero could never sleep so deeply in a strange place. It was an unnecessary risk. 

Duo sighed, and rolled over. Moving away, Heero gathered the discarded clothes, striding into Duo's room and dumping them on the floor. Turning to face his own room, Heero hesitated.  Opening a cupboard, he removed his field-kit. The kit contained his bed roll, blankets, a few dried provisions, and several hidden daggers. The kit itself was water-proof.

Taking out his bed roll and blankets, Heero spread them on the floor, and with a last glance at his squire, lay down, and closed his eyes. [1]

                                                                *

Duo blinked slowly, then yawned and stretched. Blinking again, he gazed at the ceiling. The unfamiliar ceiling. Frowning, he turned looking around the room. His gaze froze, as he saw the still form on the floor. 

Last night, Sir Heero had seemed so intimidating. More a man than a boy. Which was what Duo had expected. But now... 

Dark hair fell over the closed eyes of the youth, and his shoulders rose and fell with his breathing. His mouth was slightly open, and his expression was peaceful. He looked young. Far too young to bear the weight of the hundreds of legends, dreams and hopes pinned on him. 

"Uh.... sir? Heero?"  Duo climbed out of bed, and crouched beside the brunette. Tentatively, he reached out to touch the others shoulder. "Hee-" A hand snapped around his wrist, twisting it mercilessly. Duo yelped painfully, leaping back, but the hand retained its grip. Then, slowly, it relaxed. Duo turned to stare at his wrist, where furious red marks were already visible. Wide-eyed, he turned his gaze to the cobalt staring directly at him.

"I... What on earth do you think you're doing?" snapped Heero. A look of hurt washed briefly over the other youth's face. Heero sighed, getting to his feet, brushing past Duo, and collecting his clothes from the drawer. The cobalt eyed boy turned, his arms full of garments, to see Duo drooping dispiritedly towards his own belongings. Heero hesitated. A feeling he rarely experienced, guilt, was sweeping through him. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you. It wasn't your fault." He said softly. 

Duo turned to look at him, as a smile flashed over the braided boy's face. "You're not mad? Great! Hey, should I call you Heero, or sir, or Yuy?" 

Heero raised an eyebrow at the barrage of words. "It does not matter to me." Duo nodded with a grin. "Heero it is, then. What're we going to do today, anyway, Heero?" Heero held back a sigh. "Orientation and evaluation." He said shortly. 

Knuckles rapped on the door, as that same mousy looking man from before poked his longish nose around the door. "Sir? The king has arranged for all his resident vassals to breakfast in the Lower Rose Garden this morning, and expects your presence. He said to tell you he will be most displeased should you opt not to attend."

Heero glowered at the poor man. He hated social occasions of all descriptions, especially in recent times. Princess Relena of Sanq was sheltering in Dastrane, for dangerous as the country was, it was a thousand times safer than her own land. Her father had wanted his darling daughter as safe as possible. And naturally, the safest place was with the greatest knight in the Western Kingdoms. Relena agreed whole-heartedly. 

Duo winced sympathetically at the poor orderly. "What's your name?" he asked curiously. The man looked shocked at being spoken to like that by a member of the nobility, albeit a squire. "T-Timoth, sir." Duo smiled. "I'm Duo. Nice to meet you."

"Hn." Heero yanked his customary blue tunic over his head, and stalked out of the room. Duo grinned at Timoth, and ran after him. 

"So Heero, what did Timmy mean by 'resident vassals'? I thought everyone was out fighting Airmessens?" he asked curiously. Heero shot him a disparaging glance. "_Timmy?_" the cobalt-eyed youth shook his head. "Never mind.  There are still a little over a dozen knights within the castle, recovering from wounds, and a security guard, four score of trained soldiers, commanded by eight knights.[2]"

Heero turned a corner, and pushed open a door. Golden sunlight streamed in, and the twittering of the caged song-birds reached their ears. Walking through the door, Duo couldn't help staring. 

Maxwell's castle gardens were little more than wilderness these days. The last gardener had joined the army, and no substitute had been found. But this was just... unbelievable. Perfectly trimmed emerald lawns sloped gently away, as the shade of tall, elegant grey trees dappled the grass. Exotic blue flowers littered the garden. But most of all, were the roses.

Red roses, white roses, pink roses, yellow roses, climbing roses, miniature roses and even purple roses ((a/n: I know they exist, there's one in our garden)). And in the very centre of the thorny flowers, was a small gazebo, filled with chattering courtiers. Duo stared at them. Didn't they know there was a war on?

As the pair approached, Duo saw, standing behind the colourful nobles, stood the silent, grim figures of soldiers. They didn't look any happier to be there than Heero did. 

"Heero, so glad you could make it." A dark-haired young noble-woman cooed. At the far end of the table, next to what could only be the king himself, a blonde head snapped around.

"_Heero_! Over here!" squealed a young female voice, as the blonde waved excitedly. Beside him, Duo felt Heero tense, and mutter something. "Who's that?" Duo murmured. Heero glowered at the girl, who was still beaming obliviously at him. "Relena, princess of Sanq." The cobalt eyed knight said through clenched teeth. 

"The one who's in love with you?" Duo asked curiously. Heero glared at him. "Yes." 

Said princess had gotten tired of waiting for her 'true love' to make his way to her, and was now mincing towards the pair. "Heero, darling, who is this?" she inquired. Duo grinned, and bowed. "Duo Maxwell." Relena sniffed. "I believe I was asking Heero."

Heero stared at her blankly. "Your Highness." He said in a cold monotone. But even his stoic expression shifted slightly, when the princess grabbed his hand and dragged him to the head of the table. "I saved a seat next to me, just for you." She said, smiling prettily. Duo held in a snicker. 

Looking around, Duo saw several youths, around his own age, although the youngest couldn't have been much more than twelve. They were standing silently behind their knight-masters, eyes forward, shoulders squared and chin level. Duo decided it looked _very_ uncomfortable. 

Moving to stand behind Heero, he momentarily adopted the pose. And just as quickly abandoned it.

Heero glanced behind him, seeing Relena's chagrined expression. His new squire stood in position behind him. But instead of standing at attention, the boy was slouching, leaning on one of the support columns. Heero smirked, and turned back to his food. Anything that aggravated Relena was well worth a little indignity. He relished his little victories. 

                                                             *

Duo panted, watching warily as the slim figure circled him. In his hand rested the wooden hilt of a blunt practice sword. Heero was testing his skills. 

_Wow,_ Duo mused, _never thought I'd be duelling with Sir Heero. Even if it's only for play._

Heero, on the other hand, never considered anything for play. This, to him, was a vital evaluation of his squire's skills. Duo had unusual speed, and was agile, as expected. However, his strength was poor, and his attack much better than his defence. 

"Up! Get your sword up!" he barked. Duo, who had been allowing the point of his heavy sword to rest on the ground, flushed at having made such a beginner's mistake. He yanked his sword up fiercely. And Heero attacked.

The dark-haired boy feinted high, then drove in low. If the sword had been sharpened, it would have split Duo in two. Duo leapt back, watching Heero closely. Again, Heero attacked, this time whirling his blade towards Duo's legs. Duo jumped to the side, at the same time bringing his sword down to meet the other. Heero made a sound of approval as his sword was repelled.

Duo followed through, his blade shivering up the side of Heero's, straight for Heero's hand. Heero pulled back just in time, surprised by the squire's speedy attack, but recovered instantly. 

Whipping his sword around to the right, he smacked Duo's arm with the flat of the blade. With a yelp, Duo dropped his sword, nursing his arm, which was already starting to turn red. 

"You must be prepared for all eventualities. Your opponent will not always fight fair." Heero said in a monotone. "But... your skills are considerable." And the dark haired knight turned on his heel, and walked out. Duo stared after him in amazement. 

_Uh, hello?__ What I am supposed to do now?_

Dropping his blunt practice sword into the tray provided, Duo meandered down the hall, looking around. The cold, dull stone corridor wasn't exactly the most scenic place. 

A shout echoed, as Duo turned a corner. Here the dark hallway turned into an open air corridor, with graceful fluted columns. Sunlight poured in from the small grassy courtyard, and tall elegant trees cast their shadows on the ground. Small children were playing, laughing and shouting as they chased each other through the trees. Duo smiled, and walked towards them. 

"Hello." Said a small voice to his left. Duo looked down, and smiled at the serious little girl. "Are you looking for Jounam?" Duo cocked his head.

"Nope. Who's Jounam?" The little girl turned, her brown piggy-tails flying out behind her. "Jounam! Jounam!" she squeaked. Duo grinned. So cute.

A tall blonde youth, about Duo's age, stepped out of the bushes. From his rough clothes and tanned skin, he was probably a servant. The boy nodded cheerfully at Duo. " 'ello. C'n I 'elp ya?" Duo hesitated a moment, struggling to understand his thick accent. "No... no, I'm right, thanks. Uh, what is this?"

The boy spread his arms wide. "Why, 'tis the cour'yard o' our dear Lady Anguan 'erself." Jounam winked at Duo, over the little girl's head. The child giggled. "Don't be silly, Jounam. It's not _my_ courtyard. This is where all of the children stay," she informed Duo. "The servants take turns watching us. We're not allowed outside the palace any more. They say the Airmessens will get us."

"Bah! I'm not afraid of Airmessens!" yelled a red-headed boy. "I'm gonna kill them! All of them! They deserve it, after what they did to... to... Father..." the boy trailed off, as Jounam draped an arm around his shoulders. Duo could guess what had happened to the boy's father. Too many men had fallen under the Airmessens onslaught. Like... 

Duo shook his head fiercely. Not now, not now. He hadn't thought of it for weeks, _deliberately._ And he sure as hell wasn't going to start now. 

                                                        *

Heero stalked through the corridors. Servants scuttled out of his way, and even other nobles avoided him. They knew what Heero was like. 

Heero narrowed his eyes. His completely _brain-dead_ squire had not only wandered off on his own, but had completely disappeared. No one had seen him since this morning, although they were already full of indignation for the boy's scandalous lack of decorum.

Following the tried and true method to find things, i.e. looking where you last saw it, Heero turned left and into the practice yards. No Maxwell in the first. In the second... no Maxwell. In the third... no Du... Maxwell. 

Heero frowned. He rarely allowed himself the familiarity of using first names. But... on this occasion he was tempted to let it slide. 

Backing out of the practice courts, Heero walked purposefully down the dark hallway. Ahead, he could see light. It seemed to be moving. As he got closer, he realised that the movement was created by shadows flickering over the smooth stone. Tree shadows. 

Searching his memories, Heero dragged up a vague memory of a shady courtyard, which he'd visited as soon as he arrived here, on his investigation of the castle. 

Laughter sounded from the courtyard, and Heero stepped forward onto the green lawn. 

And froze. 

Children. Dozens of them, running crazily between the trees, giggling and laughing like hyenas. Heero had never spent any real time with children. To him, they were small, squeaky creatures that were best ignored. But obviously, his squire did not share his views. 

The braided boy was seated on a wooden bench, a little girl on his lap, and a small crowd of children at his feet. The mercurial boy was speaking animatedly, telling a story. 

For some reason, Heero felt saddened. He'd never even heard a story. His stern father had no time for such foolishness, and therefore neither did his son. 

"Duo." Heero said quietly. Duo's head snapped up. "Oh. Sorry, I kind of lost track of time." He smiled sheepishly. "See you later, Jounam, kids." He waved. 

"Why'd you call us baby goats?" asked a miniscule blonde curiously. Duo grinned. "Tell you later." He promised.

                                           *

ok.... Heero seems a bit cold in this one, but he'll warm up soon.  Also, if anyone has any ideas or pairings or whatever, that they want in here, tell me and I'll try to fit them in. No promises though. And big thankyous to all of you guys who reviewed. 

[1] betcha all thought they were going to share beds, ha? gomen, but I really don't think Heero would trust someone who'd said a total of 10 words to him, enough to share a bed. Then again, he probably wouldn't bother with the at all....

[2] For anyone who doesn't know, a score means twenty. Four score means eighty.


	3. 3

**_The Airmessens War_**

_Part III_

Disclaimer: Not mine

*

Duo sighed, as the breeze played with the loose strands of his braid. Looking out over the green, fertile lands, it was easy to see what a wonderful land this once was. But look closer, and the cracks began to show.

No smoke rose from the chimneys of the comfortable farm houses. No livestock grazed the fields. No bells tolled in the church, and the people in the streets of the town were far and few. Everyone was gone, the men to fight, and the women to work for the war effort, or to the safety of the castle. 

From his position, high on the battlements of the palace, Duo turned. His knight-master sat on a bench beside the wall, bent over his sword, as he polished a stubborn nick out of the blade. 

They were moving out to the front lines today. All the necessary organisation had taken place, and everything was ready. Now there was nothing to do but wait until just after noon, when their party would be setting out. Duo was bored. Back in Maxwell, they would have known exactly how disastrous that could be. But here, the poor unsuspecting people had no idea...

Duo sat down beside Heero, idly playing with the decorative tassel on the discarded scabbard, which was resting on Heero's lap. "You know, this _thing,_" Duo looked in disgust at the gaudy red and gold sheathe, "doesn't really seem like something of yours." Heero glanced at him, and grunted.

"It was a gift from Princess Relena."

Duo cocked his head. "But I thought you didn't like her?" Heero's eyes narrowed.

"I don't. King Treize ordered me to wear it. It's impractical, awkward, attracts attention, needs repairing damn near constantly...." Duo raised his eyebrows as he listened to Heero's rant. He hadn't known his stoic knight-master had so many words in him. "So you don't like it, huh?" he asked sympathetically. "Is Treize going to be on the front lines?" 

Heero frowned, wondering why it was relevant. "No." Duo smirked, and shrugged. 

"Just chuck it in a lake, then. He'll never know, and you can tell him you lost it in battle." 

"I've been ordered to carry it. Anything else is a deliberate defiance." Heero stated. "But... he won't know that..." Duo said enticingly. Heero considered. Duo was right. He hesitated, and then gave an affirmative nod. Duo smiled. 

"How long til we go, anyway?" he asked after a pause. Heero glanced at the sun. "Now." He said shortly, and turned, walking towards the entrance to the long flight of stairs, which spiralled their way down to the main courtyard.

The courtyard was a whirl of colour and light. The sun reflected off the polished armour, weapons and harnesses, and everywhere pennants stirred in the breeze. Heero's own mount, a powerful white charger, stood quietly in a corner. The stableboy holding his reins was paying absolutely no attention to anything but the pretty maid standing in the kitchen doorway. So he didn't see the cat streak between his legs. And he certainly didn't see the wolfhound tearing towards him on hot pursuit. 

The dog, focussed solely on its fleeing adversary, attempted to follow its example, and dash between his legs. Unfortunately, the wolfhound was significantly larger than a cat. 

The stableboy gave a high-pitched squeak as the hound's head made painful contact. The boy's eyes crossed, and he stumbled backwards, falling with a thump. 

Duo knew it wasn't really funny. It was clearly very painful. And it would be extremely cruel to laugh. But...  Duo tried desperately to stifle the peals of laughter threatening to burst out of his mouth. He only partially succeeded. Heero turned around, and raised an eyebrow, and turned away. But before he did, Duo saw the beginnings of a miniscule smile on his face, and beamed. 

Heero's white mount remained unfazed by the drama, flicking and ear disinterestedly towards the boy, his gaze instead focussed on his approaching master. As Heero drew near, the dark-haired knight stretched out a hand to the horse, rubbing the velvety muzzle. Duo, walking up beside them, stroked the horse's shoulder in greeting, as a whinny broke out from the stables. 

Yet another hapless stable-boy was desperately trying to saddle to flighty black colt. But Shinigami wasn't making it easy, oh no. The horse repeatedly shied away from the bridle, and as soon as the saddle was placed on his back, Shini shook it off before the girth could be cinched. The black eyes sought and found his master, who was... paying attention to another! Without a second thought, the horse ploughed forward, dragging the stable-boy with him. 

Heero watched blankly as the colt approached. "Yours, I take it?" Duo grinned, and nodded. 

"A war-horse will be supplied when we reach Trethllewyn. Have you got your weapons?" 

Duo nodded. Earlier that morning, Heero had given him a set of throwing knives, after being assured Duo could use them, a shield, two daggers and a bow. Duo wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do with a bow and no arrows. Maybe he could whack the Airmessens over the head with it? 

Taking Shini's tack from the battered boy, Duo saddled his colt. The boy stared in amazement as the horse stood calmly for his master. He could've sworn that horse was smirking at him. 

Turning, Duo looked for Heero, to find him already mounted and waiting. The white stallion snorted at the obvious excitement of the young black horse. His rider seemed to think much the same of Duo. The braided baka's enthusiastic grin was at odds with his circumstances; going to war. Heero knew that innocence would not last five minutes on the battlefield, and he already mourned its loss. 

*

A few hours down the road, and Duo was already bored. Out of the many war fronts in the Western Kingdoms, they were headed for one of the worst, Yhman in Trethllewyn. Six thousand men had died barely a mile from the army's current position. They had been forced to retreat after the horrific massacre the soldiers had dubbed 'Feast for Crows'. When the tattered remnants of that army had heard Sir Heero Yuy was coming, the cheering had been heard for miles around, literally. Heero always won. Their survival was assured, now. 

The night before, Duo had been briefed on Yhman's economy, language, defences, geography, wildlife and culinary creations. He hadn't listened to a word of it, naturally. They were going to fight, not to live. But Sir Heero was nothing if not thorough. 

Heero looked sideways, watching the boy riding beside and slightly behind him. The violet eyes were glazed, as though he were thinking deeply, and a strand of golden brown hair had fallen loose from his braid, lying softly along the boy's cheek. His head was slightly tilted, and his body was relaxed and calm. Suddenly, he seemed to feel Heero's gaze, as he turned to look inquisitively at him. Heero tried a small smile, and was rewarded with an answering grin.

"So, you've been to Trethllewyn before?" Duo asked curiously. Heero shook his head. "It is the only Western Kingdom I haven't been to." Duo perked up. 

"Oh, really? So you've been to Hastros, right?" he asked eagerly. Heero nodded. "Is it true some of their people have no fingernails?" Duo asked, wonderingly. 

Heero shook his head. "No, not at all." Duo grinned cheerfully. Then his smile faded a little. "What.... what do Airmessens look like? I've never seen one." 

Heero paused, considering. "They're... unlike anything else. Their skin is pitch black, and it... _glimmers._ There's no other word for it. Their faces are a little like cats, but their eyes are silver and have no pupils. They have rather large, pointed ears, and behind the ears there are ribbed fins. They're hideous." 

Duo pulled a face. "And I thought they sounded so pleasant." He quipped sarcastically. 

Heero rolled his eyes. "Why were you the last squire left?" he asked suddenly. Duo gave a little half-shrug. 

"My foster parents wanted to keep me out of it. After... after..." Duo's throat refused to shape the words, and instead he said "... something happened, and they just wouldn't let me go afterwards."

A vague memory sprung to Heero's mind. A mental image of a list of the deceased he had once seen flashed through his mind.

_Solo Maxwell_

_20 years_

_First-born son of Lady Helen and Lord Maxwell_

_Killed in action_

"I see." He said softly. 

*

Somewhere ahead, a dog yelped in the darkness. Slowly the looming shadows of the village came into view. 

Duo shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. A full day of riding, and even the best would begin to feel discomfort. Sneaking a glance at Heero, Duo amended that thought. The _very_ best appeared to be just fine, thankyou very much. 

As they passed through the town, light spilled out from the windows of the houses, highlighting Duo's exhausted face. Heero, looking at him, nudged his stallion, Kaero closer to Duo's skittish colt, ready to catch the boy if he should fall. Duo, seeing this, gave him a sleepy smile of thanks, and pulled himself back into the saddle properly.

The little procession came to a slow halt outside the town's only inn, a shabby little affair named the Dog and Bone. Dismounting, Heero, being the unofficial leader, signalled to remain on their horses, and went in. The dingy interior was everything a stereotypical country inn should be; small, crowded and more than a little fragrant. 

Shouldering his way to the counter, Heero grabbed the fingers of a pickpocket, and twisted, without turning around. The child yelped, and fell backwards when Heero released him. He was given a wide berth after that. 

The tall, spare inn-keeper waded through the tables to his side. "C'n I help ye?" Heero nodded, and brusquely dropped a small pouch of coins into the surprised man's arms. "I want as many rooms as you've got. Talk to the small bald man about the particulars." Heero informed him, referring to that very same tailor who had travelled with Duo to Ferith. His cousin had died recently, and there was little work for him in the city. The dispirited man was hoping that there would be some on the front. They still wore clothes out there, didn't they? He hoped they did....

Heero beckoned to the rest, as they dismounted and handed their reins to stableboys. Shinigami seemed too tired to play games with these ones. But in the morning, it would no doubt be a different story. 

Heero stood in the doorway, watching as Duo picked his way through the milling group towards him, both of their bags slung over the slim squire's back. As Duo drew level, Heero deftly removed both the bags from his grasp. "I can carry them, you know. It's kind of my job as a squire." Duo remarked with a smile. Heero returned the grin, surprised at himself. The expression felt strange on his face. 

Duo let loose a yelp. Heero's head snapped around as he searched for the cause of Duo's distress. "What is it?"

Duo narrowed his eyes as he dragged Heero to the other side of the room. The object of his glare, a bald, greasy old man, smiled innocently back at him. "That man just pinched me." He muttered. "Bastard." Heero sent his best glare at the man, noting with satisfaction the look of fear on his face. _How dare he?_ Heero fumed inwardly. _Touch **my**.... my squire._ _He's my squire._ Heero thought firmly. _I have to protect him. Especially from disgusting old drunkards. _ He dismissed the thought that Duo was more than capable of taking care of himself. 

Duo nudged Heero, and nodded towards the stairs. "How many rooms?" Heero shrugged, shouldering the bags and making his way up the small, dark stairway, closely followed by Duo, who uncomfortably aware of the lingering gazes resting on him. The old man wasn't the only one interested. 

Heero kicked open the door of the nearest room, unceremoniously dumping their bags on the floor. Duo followed, one hand idly fiddling with his cross, as he looked around. It was a dark, cold room, with a small unlit fireplace, one suspicious looking bed and a spindly chair that appeared to be buckling under the weight of Duo's eyes. 

A knock on the door, and said door opened, to reveal a serving girl dragging a small straw mattress. She dropped it on the floor of their room, curtseyed, and left. Both youths looked at it in disgust. "I am _not_ sleeping on that." Duo said fervently. Heero agreed. Kneeling beside his field kit, he dragged out a pair of blankets, as Duo did the same. By mutual agreement, all four blankets ended up on the little bed, all in semi-darkness. 

For an awkward moment, they stood staring at each other across the bed. Then Duo gave a little grin, hoping to dispel the odd tension, and lay down, rolling himself up in the blankets. Heero hesitantly did the same. 

The thin walls kept out none of the common room's noise, but now Duo could hear the sound of the main door, opening and closing in rapid succession. People were leaving, late as it was. Soon silence enveloped the inn, and the steady sound of Heero's breathing filled the room. But Duo knew Heero was awake. 

"What's it like in Wing?" Duo asked quietly. Beside him, he felt Heero shift. "It's... different. Cleaner. Brighter. Harsher." Heero glared into the darkness, angry at his inability to describe his home. Duo, on the other hand, was confused. "How can it be brighter and harsher at the same time?" he wondered. Heero struggled to find the words. 

"In Wing, things are more... precise. Clean-cut. There are no weaknesses, of any kind." Heero let out a low bark of laughter. "My father made sure of that."

Duo turned to lie on his side, facing Heero in the dark. He could see the frail moonlight reflecting in the other's eyes as he stared at the ceiling. "You weren't close to your father?" he asked softly. Heero shook his head. 

"I was a soldier to my father. An heir and a replacement. Not a child." The unspoken words, _not his son,_ seemed to echo through the room. Duo impulsively reached out and touched Heero's arm. Heero stared at him, surprised, then a small smile slipped past the Perfect Soldier's defences. "Good night Duo."

"Goodnight."

*

Three long, dusty, dreary weeks later, a tired and bedraggled party meandered through the Trethllewyn camp. In the lead, Sir Heero sat tall and proud on his white destrier. The sight of him brought a hopeful smile to many faces. This was, after all, the legendary knight who was rumoured to be their salvation. 

Ahead of them, a lone figure stood on the edge of the river bank, staring across the water, where he knew the Airmessens were. The sun threw his long shadow behind him, shining into his eyes, one of which was covered by a long swathe of hair. The strange man turned to face them, as Heero, followed by Duo, rode to his side and dismounted. 

"Trowa." Heero acknowledged. The emerald-eyed knight nodded in return. "A squire, Heero?" he asked. Heero nodded curtly. 

Duo stood a little way back, feeling out of place. Behind him, a pebble was dislodged, and he spun around to see a golden-haired boy making his way towards them. As the boy approached, Duo realised that he was probably not much younger than himself. The boy looked up, and smiled, his blue-green eyes flashing. "Hello. I'm Quatre. Who're you?" he asked. He had a strange, southern accent. 

"Duo Maxwell. Sir Heero's squire." Duo replied. Quatre nodded towards Trowa. "He's my knight-master. Trowa Green-eye." Duo's eyebrows shot up. No wonder Heero knew this soldier. Trowa Green-eye was renowned for his agility, and for his abilities with animals. He could make them walk off a cliff if he so wished. That was how much they trusted him on sight. 

Trowa turned at the sound of his squire's voice, and Heero alone was privy to the small, soft smile on the hardened warrior's face. His eyebrows shot up. "It would appear I'm not the only one." He said, in reply to Trowa's earlier comment. Trowa nodded, almost sheepishly. 

*

Well, no footnotes for this one. Yes, this is definitely going to be a 1x2, because I'm a Duo/Heero obsessive, and someone asked for 3x4 (which is also a very cute pairing) so there may be smatterings of that throughout the story. Nothing's certain yet, though, and if there's anything you really don't like, tell me. Review?


	4. 4

Disclaimer: Not mine

*

Quatre showed Duo to a wagon somewhere in the maze he optimistically called 'camp'. Duo thought that was asking a bit much of the little settlement. The place was little more than a rat's nest. 

Rough-and-ready tents lined the dirt alleys, and mongrel dogs prowled between them. The whores and thieves that follow armies were present in abundance. Quatre pointedly ignored the leering men lounging around. Duo took the hint and did the same. 

_I am never going to remember this,_ Duo groaned inwardly, as Quatre rattled off a set of directions to find the medics tent, the mess area, the latrines, the Commander's tent for emergencies, and his and Trowa's tent. 

Seeing the bemused look on his face, Quatre took pity on the long-haired squire. "Don't worry about it." He said. "You'll get it in no time, and I'll help you out until then. But be careful who you ask for directions. There are some people here that are even worse than Airmessens." He warned. Duo nodded. 

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he spun around to face his knight-master. "This is Quatre, Heero." Duo said. Heero nodded in acknowledgement. "Trowa wants you." He said in his usual monotone. Duo snickered, as Quatre gave them both a bemused glance, and trotted off. 

Heero frowned. "What are you laughing at?"

Duo was getting over it by now, and calming down. "I... That just sounded kind of dirty." He said with a grin. Heero raised an eyebrow, then shook his head, and walked past. But not before once again removing Duo's bag, and carrying it himself. Duo grabbed the rest of their gear from the wagon, and hurried after him.

Walking fast to keep up with the slightly taller youth, Duo relayed everything he could remember from Quatre's little lecture/pep talk. Heero absorbed the information without comment. 

"Trowa says the Airmessens haven't moved since the Feast for Crows. Over the past few days they've seemed to be retreating." Duo glanced sharply at Heero. 

"You don't believe that." He said. It wasn't a question. "No." Heero conceded. 

"Where're we going?" Duo asked, changing the subject. Heero pointed ahead of them. "The Dastrane knight's camp is over here."

Duo frowned. "The countries have different camps?" he asked. Heero nodded. "Hastrosians don't get along with Fabrisians, Greyes consider Sanqs to be weak... there are so many minor rivalries, it was just easier for the camps to be separated."

"But... shouldn't we at least be _trying_ to unite?" 

Heero nodded. "The Airmessens may win due to human nature. We must let go of our rivalries if we are to win this war. If we are to win anything."

Duo nodded seriously. But he doubted people could ever truly be persuaded to put aside their generation-long grudges, for anything. As the foster child of the Lord and Lady of Maxwell, he had been carefully educated. That included the unofficial, unspoken laws. Such as the hatred between Hastros and Fabrisia, that had been going on for so long, no one could remember what it was about. It just was. 

Duo sighed, looking around at the segmented camp. He'd known it would be dirty, and bloody. He'd known in his head. But still, it was a shock to see how wide the distance was, between this, and the ideas of his subconscious. 

Hearing the dispirited sigh, Heero gingerly wrapped an arm around Duo's shoulders, juggling their bags to do so. Duo's eyes widened at the unusual gesture, but he accepted it gratefully. 

The camp got no better as they entered the Dastrane area. In fact, there was little difference at all. As they entered the knights section, the whores became prettier and the thieves became more adept, but that was the extent of the change. That and the skanky dogs that prowled the camp became scarcer. 

As they toiled up the muddy slope to the tent that had been set aside for them - or more specifically, Heero – a tall, thin man with an aristocratic nose approached them. "Sir Heero." He said reverently, bowing from the waist. Heero nodded in acknowledgement. "Sir Andreguo." 

Duo's eyes narrowed as he watched the man pick his way back towards his own tent, like a stork walking through a marsh. An evil stork. Duo could feel Heero's tension, which only added to his own reservations about the tall man. 

At the very back of their area, a comparatively large tent had been erected. It was to this one that Heero walked, followed by his trusty squire. Said trusty squire rolled his eyes as he spotted the blatantly conspicuous audience. It seemed everyone had found some task to busy themselves with near their tent. And all of them were shooting very obvious glances at the hero of the Western Kingdoms. 

Behind him, Duo heard a shocked gasp. Looking over his shoulder, his eyes widened and he felt a surge of hatred as he spotted Ariel. Ariel was one of his younger cousins, a pale, platinum blonde youth with soulful blue eyes. He was beautiful; there was no other word for it. And he was a vindictive little bastard. 

Ariel had never beaten Duo, or even touched him. He seemed to think the skin of a commoner, whether fostered or not, would taint him. So he found others ways to hurt Duo. Ariel's methods were ingenious, vicious, and undeniably Machiavellian [1]. 

At various intervals throughout Duo's childhood, Ariel had convinced everyone that Duo had set fire to the barn, stolen all the eggs from the castle hen house, let the bulls into the cows paddock, dyed little Francesca's white scarf red, and a literal pile of other things Duo didn't even want to think about. 

Satisfaction crept through Duo, as he suddenly recalled something Ariel had once said.

_"I'm going to be a knight. I'll be a squire to a famous knight first, like Heero Yuy, and then I'll beat them, and be knighted. You'll never be a squire at all."_

A smug smile grew on Duo's lips, as he gazed at the stunned Ariel. "Hello, cousin." He called, before following Heero into the tent. One glance at Ariel's shocked, furious face, and Duo couldn't restrain his laughter. 

Heero turned as he heard the peals of stifled laughter. But by now he knew better than to ask why Duo was laughing. It was just too perilous. 

Duo met his gaze with an amused violet stare. "Revenge is sweet, huh Heero?" 

Heero just shook his head. _I give up. _

*

Heero furiously fought the urge to yawn. If he had to listen to one more speech about how welcome he was, and how bravely they had fought in the Feast for Crows, he would tell them where they could shove their self-congratulatory drivel. 

Another round of reluctant applause, and the final speaker stood. Heero gave an audible sigh of relief. Before he recognised the man; Andreguo. 

Andreguo's speech began the same as the others, rambling on about how brave the soldiers had been, what a great sacrifice they'd all made, and how the dead would never be forgotten. But then the topic changed. 

The dark-haired man began to speak of the Airmessens, their monstrosity, their cruelty, their hatred of humans. He spoke of the terrible retribution that would fall on the creatures, and of the rise of humanity against this evil. 

With his speech, the atmosphere of the meeting changed. Instead of the slightly dull, dry aura, the gathering became angry, dangerous, and ready to do anything. By the end of the speech, more than half the assembly were on their feet, and Heero was sure a few of them were baying for blood. It would take less than a spark in a haystack to set this group off. And a group of incensed, powerful, deadly warriors is something to fear. Because incensed, powerful and deadly warriors don't think. They just act. And that was something to be avoided. 

Heero grudgingly admitted that Andreguo was a talented speaker. He had manipulated some of the most powerful men in the kingdom as easily as a dog herds sheep. But herding them where? For what?

Heero's mind raced in circles, as he tried to figure out what Andreguo would gain from this. Perhaps he was just testing the water, trying the limits of his abilities, and of his control. Still there were less hazardous ways to do it. 

With an uneasy frown, Heero watched as Andreguo bowed his way out of the centre of the circle to thunderous applause. This gathering consisted of Dastrane knights only. No squires, servants or soldiers. Duo and Quatre were both cleaning their knight-masters' armour. Trowa was sitting silently in his seat across the circle. For a moment, his jade eyes caught Heero's cerulean gaze. Trowa too, was wondering at Andreguo's motives. 

Slowly, the gathering trickled out in twos and threes, all of them talking excitedly. Heero was one of the last to leave, and when he did rise, Trowa joined him. "What did you think of that little display?" Trowa asked quietly as they walked through the darkness towards the flickering lights of camp ahead. 

"I'm not sure. He has impressive control. But there is no logical explanation or motive."

"Perhaps there is." Trowa suggested. "Maybe we're just not thinking laterally enough."

*

When they re-entered the camp, they were met by shining, squeaky clean armour, and two muddy, sooty squires. Heero had to forcibly hold back his laughter at the sight of Duo's bright eyes peering out of his nearly black face.  White teeth gleamed as Duo grinned widely. "We were cleaning them, just like you asked, and then Quatre ran out of sand [2]. So we went to get some, and we fell into an old fire pit. There were no coals or anything in it, luckily, but we did get a bit dirty." Duo looked hopefully at Heero.

"There's only one fire pit in the camp, Duo. It's over there, in the Hastrosian area. Which is on the opposite side of the camp from the Dastrane equipment tent. You know, that structure where they keep the spare sand?" Heero said with a raised eyebrow. Duo gave a nervous laugh. 

"We got lost?" he offered. Heero made no comment. 

Quatre looked rather sheepishly at Trowa. "Sorry, Trowa." Trowa looked stern for a minute, before crumbling under the blue plea for forgiveness that passed as Quatre's eyes. "It's alright. Don't do it again." He said simply. 

"You're getting soft, Trowa." Heero remarked. "I don't see you planning torture either." Trowa said flatly. Heero nodded.

_Point for ol' One-eye,_ Duo thought. 

"Was there anything interesting at the meeting?" Quatre inquired as he and Trowa retreated to their tent. Trowa nodded. 

"Andreguo is stirring up trouble."

Quatre nodded thoughtfully, knowing that was all he was going to get out of the quiet youth. He had his own history with Andreguo. 

_The sand churns and sprays into the air as the horseman wheels his blood-bay mare, doubling back and galloping along his own tracks. He is fleeing from the massive horses galloping towards him, ridden by the dangerous men known as the Maguanac. His cloak whips back, and he rips it off, fearing that it will slow him down. He digs his heels into his poor horse, as his pursuers draw nearer. _

_Clenched tightly in one fist is a stone. But this is no ordinary pebble. It is the Kallamunrhah, the Heartstone of the people known as the Sons of the Sun. And clinging desperately onto the man's back is a small, golden-haired child. The First Son, prince of these people. _

_The man yells indistinctly as his horse stumbles. For a few moments, the horse slows. The child closes his eyes tightly, and takes this one chance. He leaps off the horse's back and rolls clear. _

_For a minute or two, the golden-haired boy lies curled up in the warm sand, his eyes still closed, thanking the Sun and Allah that there had not been rocks in his landing place. Then the thundering of heavy hooves draws his attention, and he sits up to see three of the huge horses detach themselves from the main party, who continue to chase the man on the fast horse. _

_With a distinct thump, one of the three dismounts and bends down to the First Son. "Master Quatre? Are you hurt?"_

_The golden prince shakes his head, accidentally spraying sand all over everything, which makes little difference, considering there is sand everywhere anyway. "I'm fine Rashid. Are they going to catch him?" Quatre asked. _

_"I hope so, little one."_

But they never did catch the blood-bay mare. And her rider escaped with his precious cargo. The Kallamunrhah was still missing. But Quatre knew who had it. 

On a formal visit with Trowa to Sir Andreguo's house, Quatre had gone to Andreguo's stables to fetch Trowa's horse. And in the stables, he had seen a very familiar blood-bay mare. She had been stabled at the back, half-hidden by a large haystack. It made no sense to try and hide a mare as speedy and obviously valuable as her. Andreguo was known for his racehorses, and this beauty must surely be the cream of the crop. This was why she had been lent to the man who had stolen the Heartstone. 

But Quatre had no proof. There was no way he could make anyone other than himself believe that this was that same mare. 

A slight smile graced Quatre's face, even as these dark thoughts slipped through his mind. The mare had had a foal. It had been almost grown then, ready to be broken. It was a beautiful colt, with deep wise eyes and a coat the same red hue of its mother. Its name was Sandrock. 

*

Heero rolled over, rearranging his blankets. On the other side of the tent, he could hear Duo's even breathing. Yet for some reason, he was having trouble joining the braided baka in dream land. Disturbing thoughts were rambling though his head, bashing on the walls of his skull and ricocheting off other half-formed ideas. 

Slowly, his training overwhelmed his agitated mind, and he slipped into an uneasy slumber. His dreams were wild and chaotic, full of things that lunged at him in the dark, and then withdrew, eyes that tried to tell him something, voices that whispered. 

Duo gave a little groan as he awoke. It was still dark, although the tent seemed a little lighter to the east. He could see Heero's dim form rolled up in his tangled blankets. The dark haired boy mumbled something, and rolled over fretfully. 

Lying on his back and staring up at the almost invisible canvas roof, Duo let out a quiet sigh. For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to think of Maxwell. 

Homesickness washed through him as he recalled the tangled, wild gardens, the low cottages of the village, Father Maxwell's deep voice and Solo's smile. 

But Solo wouldn't smile any more. Solo was dead. A silent tear slipped down Duo's face as he recalled his big brother. Solo had been his idol, his role-model, his hero. Solo had defended him from his cousins. From those who said he had no right to live in Maxwell. From the world.

Solo was dead. 

Duo swallowed, blinking when he felt wetness on his cheek. _Boys don't cry, boys don't cry,_ he repeated silently. He tried to think of something else, anything else. But it was no use, and he fell back onto his mantra, over and over. _Boys don't cry, boys don't cry, boys don't cry._

The three tears that had escaped slowly dried on his cheeks and Duo's eyes remained open as he stared blankly at the canvas above. There was definite light to the east now, and inside the tent everything was doused in a pale grey glow. Duo heard Heero begin to stir, and – knowing the insane hours Heero woke at – scrubbed furiously at his face the remove any evidence. 

*

The pale youth sat quietly on his log, watching as the army cooks busied themselves around the fire. His big baby-blue eyes were alert, darting everywhere. 

"Ariel..." came a timid voice. The blonde noble turned around, a small smirk on his face. The ginger-haired speaker nearly swooned. "Sir Bredingwhaith wants to see you." She simpered. Ariel stood with elegant grace, and walked towards her. 

"Thankyou Maisy." He said huskily, giving her an almost seductive smiled. This time Maisy really did swoon. Ariel's smile became mocking, although the little maid did not see it. 

The squire strode off into the camp.

*

[1] Machiavellian: 1   of or relating to the alleged political principles of Machiavelli; cunning, amoral, and opportunist 

noun

2   a cunning, amoral, and opportunist person, esp. a politician 

[2] Sand was used for cleaning rust off armour


	5. 5

Disclaimer: Not mine

There's really no excuse for this disgustingly late chapter. Sorry. Also, its been mentioned that I probably need a proofreader, and looking over some of the past chapters, I agree. Any volunteers?

*

Duo sighed, resting his head against the rough bark of the tree looming above him. His back ached, the muscles along his spine protesting the strain he'd been putting on them over the past few days. 

He'd assumed that they'd be fighting pretty much the minute they got to the front. But they'd been in Yhman for almost a week now, and he hadn't even _seen_ an Airmessens, let alone fought one. 

No, for the last few days they'd been improving the camps defences, and while Duo was sore all over from hauling carts carrying building materials, it had been worth it to see Ariel toiling uphill, his usually perfect hair messy and dishevelled. 

Heero had spent most of his time cloistered with a few other relatively important knights, and Trowa. Quatre, due to his slight frame, had been placed on kitchen duty. Duo wished he had too, but he was just tall enough to work with the heavy stuff. 

Duo looked up as he heard boots churning the recently spread gravel. He watched through narrowed eyes as Andreguo stalked past, muttering to himself. _So the bastard really is crazy, _Duo thought.

For some unknown reason, Duo loathed Andreguo. He didn't know why, he just did. Everything about the man, from his smooth, charismatic voice, to his dull blue eyes, repelled him. 

Duo's eyes followed the dark-haired man up the hill. Duo's curious nature came into play, as the braided squire silently rose, and followed, walking on the wilted and dry grass, instead of the gravel. 

Andreguo stopped at the crest of the hill, looking out over the river from the edge of the defences. The hill he was on was adjacent to the hill on which Heero's tent was pitched, and when Andreguo swung around to stare at it, Duo had to duck suddenly under a friendly bush. He felt more than a bit stupid, but no one could see him anyway. He hoped. 

From here, he could hear snatches of Andreguo's mumbling, as they were borne towards him by the wind. 

"What does... think he's.... _idiot!_ ... going to.... stupid... inane.... lapdogs. Think they'll... they? ... show them! Why... see that... too risky..."

Duo turned the words over in his mind, trying to fit the fragments into the bigger picture. But to no avail. All he could really gather was that Andreguo was really, _really_ mad with someone. Which he could have done without hiding like a mouse behind a bush.

Andreguo was pacing, three steps to the east, turn, three steps to the west. His movements were short and angry. The man's lustreless eyes were flicking agitatedly over the scenery, as his hands fiddled nervously with a chain on his neck. 

Duo slowly began to creep away, deciding he would learn nothing more here. His hand came down, and he winced as the point of a rock dug into his palm. Or at least, it should have been a rock. The glint of gold made Duo frown, as he worked the strange, five-pointed star out of the ground. The trinket was barely bigger than his thumbnail. It was roughly made, and some of the points were larger than others, but for all that, it still held a kind of elusive, glinting beauty, as it lay, muddy and smeared, in Duo's palm. 

Duo tucked the star into his pocket, and continued on his sneaky little way. By the time he'd reached the camp, he'd already forgotten all about the thing. 

*

Trowa frowned, as he ran his finger over the wooden shaft of the arrow. It had warped. No good for his purposes anymore. 

Silently, he placed the useless arrow on the ground. He stretched, looking around. He had been out here for hours now, oiling his bowstring, fletching arrows and inspecting others. Trowa was an experienced fighter, and he could smell a battle on the wind. 

Quatre, on the other hand, had no such sixth sense. The little prince was stretched out on the ground, his eyes closed and his body relaxed. Trowa spared a moment to observe the shimmer of sunlight on his golden hair. Quatre really was a gem. He would have all the girls flocking when they returned to court, any court. An unexpected stab of... something... shot through Trowa at the thought, but he refused to acknowledge or analyse it. 

Trowa's thoughts moved on, pausing on the threat of battle hovering in his mind. He'd trained Quatre as well as he could, in the little time he'd had. The Sun of the Kallamunrah, Quatre's father, had only allowed Quatre to become a squire on the condition that he served the best. Trowa was one of the best, and the other two did not take squires. Or at least, Heero hadn't, and Trowa hadn't either. But Quatre had changed his mind. 

As for the third, the Solitary Dragon was exactly what his name implied. A loner. Trowa had only met him once. His first, second and third impressions had been of dangerous grace. But his fourth impression was of deep, unbearable loneliness, so intrinsic that Wufei didn't even know it was there. 

Trowa wondered idly whether he himself was like that. Or whether he had been, before Quatre. He hoped not. He prided himself on his awareness of his surroundings, and to miss something so blindingly obvious in himself would be unforgivable. 

"Trowa." Came Heero's blank voice from behind him. Trowa stood and turned to face the knight. He arched an eyebrow in query. Heero turned on his heel and stalked away, trailed by a bewildered Trowa. 

Heero stopped a few yards from the edge of camp, close enough to be fairly inconspicuous, but far enough that a casual listener wouldn't pick up their conversation. 

"Andreguo has offered a thousand more men to the war effort." Heero said shortly. Trowa sucked his breath in. While a thousand men sounded nice and impressive, it really wasn't all that much. The disturbing thing was that Andreguo had earlier claimed he had no more men, when asked why his contribution to the war was so surprisingly low. The respective rulers were so desperate now, that they wouldn't question Andreguo's gift. 

"Where?" 

Heero's eyes narrowed. "Here. After our friend's little display the other day, I'm not happy with him controlling an extra thousand men."

Trowa nodded slowly. 

Andreguo had a disturbing amount of control, not just over the Dastrane knights, but the entire camp. Whether he chose to exercise that control remained to be seen. 

*

Ariel massaged his temples, as he stared in frustration at the open book before him. The silver haired youth growled as he flipped over another page. The sloping, cursive text refused to give up its secrets, instead choosing to weave itself into riddles. 

Slender hands pushed the tome aside. '_Myrthian__ Lore'_ wasn't going to help him. 

Ariel's interest lay in one particular legend. To be specific, the Chigowka, Myrthia's oldest legend. It was also one of the least remembered. The  Chigowka was a mythical monster, hatched from a giant egg and doomed to wander the earth forever until it found its master. It was a shape-shifter, but favoured the form of a huge rainbow hawk with flashing eyes of fire and a tail like a waterfall. Ariel snorted. Honestly, all Myrthians must have their heads in the clouds if they believed this. 

But Ariel had learnt the hard way that, while they were mostly fantasy and embellishments, some legends had more truth to them than he would like. 

With a small sigh, the angelic boy stood, pushing through the tent flaps. Pausing just outside, he looked around. The simpering smiles of the whores across the walkway slipped past his eyes, as did the disapproving glares of several knights, and the over approving observations of others. His gaze locked instead onto the braided figure trotting up the hill towards the largest tent. 

Ariel's gaze narrowed viciously. It didn't balance out, at least in his mind. How did Duo end up as a squire to _Sir Heero?_ This just wasn't right. It didn't fit into his master plan. How was he supposed to become Sir Heero's protégé if he wasn't even his squire? 

In Ariel's mind, the future was laid out in a straight line. He would excel at everything, marry a princess, and rule a country. It was that simple. He wasn't entirely sure what his adopted cuckoo of a cousin was doing in his plan, but he was not, repeat, not, going to let Duo screw up his future. 

Ariel really did see Duo as a cuckoo, an egg laid in another bird's nest, which would eventually push out the other chicks. Duo had always been the family jewel, the beloved, clever, perfect son. He wasn't even noble. Lord Maxwell's two brothers and their families lived with the Lord at his castle, and because of that, Ariel could barely remember a day he had not been compared to Duo. 

He remembered what he had overheard his mother – his own mother! - say to Lady Helen. '_I wish Ariel could be a bit friendlier. I don't understand why he's so different from Duo.' _Lady Helen had nodded sympathetically. 

Because they were the same age, Duo and Ariel were expected to be natural allies. Ariel, eager to prove his superiority, or at least his equality, had begun to blame Duo for everything. 

After all, his life would have been perfect if that commoner hadn't stuck his nose into it. He would have been the beloved child, the special one. He wouldn't have been second best. No, not even that. His brother was second best. He came somewhere around fourth, or fifth. And for Ariel, that wasn't good enough. 

Deep down, Ariel wasn't sure if he really hated Duo, or whether he just blamed the other for his own failings. In the middle of the night, doubt gnawed at him. Was it his own fault his parents preferred Duo over himself. Was the problem him, pushing others away? Was he really as dull as all that, compared to the flashing fire that was Duo?

But Ariel still clung desperately to one memory. 

_The shaman's eyes glittered above his half-mask, focussed on the nervous blonde before him. It was right that the boy should fear. This was his Naming Day, and was the time he would receive his name, his true name. Where this pale-skinned child came from, they no longer followed the old ways, perhaps never had. This boy was Nameless. _

_And Zaami the shaman was going to save the boy from his own anonymity. _

_Staring deeply into the shimmering blue eyes, Zaami brought his powers into play chanting softly. Then his voice whispered, to the Nameless One alone ; "Dark water, swift swallow, secret heart, slow burn, I name you Thowra!" [1]_

Ariel slowly pulled himself out of his memories, wishing he could stay. 

*

The slim, white cloaked figure sat astride his horse, his hidden eyes seeking out the little figures scurrying across the plain below the mountain. Behind them, he could see the funeral pyres blazing towards the sky, and smell the stench of roasting flesh even from his position on the mountainside. 

The village was doomed. It's last pitiful defences had crumbled a few days earlier, and, pausing only to burn their dead, the villagers were fleeing. 

The eyes narrowed. Justice must be found for this, but it could not be won here. The horse turned, and began a leisurely canter along the road, his rider sitting easily in the saddle. 

*

Heero shifted, and the stones rattled under his feet. There had been no sign of Airmessens for days, and the men were becoming complacent. Heero, on the other hand, was like a cat on hot bricks. Something was up. 

His attention was drawn to the sound of trumpets, as an ornamental red and gold coach wound towards him. Heero's eyebrows shot up at this fanciful, overwhelming display stopped right beside him, and three men dressed in.... gods, be merciful... _pink_ livery. Heero had a feeling he knew who might be behind this. 

The leading man, his eyes crazed and homicidal under the fluffy white plume erupting from his hat, presented Heero with a huge wicker basket. 

"Her.... her... majesty..." he huffed, straining under the weight of the basket, "... felt you... might need these."

He unceremoniously dropped it, and bowed to Heero, before turning smartly on his heel, his face burning from the snickers all around him. 

The coach sped away at top speed, although due to all the extra gilding on its exterior, not to mention the inside, it escaped at about walking pace. 

Heero stared apprehensively down at the basket at his feet. Slowly, carefully, he reached for it, his hands closing around the handle. He glance dup, and his little audience gave him a nod of encouragement. He squared his shoulders, and flipped open the lid. 

It was worse than he'd imagined. Worse than he'd _ever_ imagined. 

The inside was lined in some sort of soft, sheeny material. Bet you can't guess what colour it was. Inside lay an assortment of utterly useless trinkets, all bearing Relena's name or mark in some shape or form. A pretty glass bird, a little wooden squirrel. A necklace with _Relena_ engraved into the gold. 

_Why me?_ Heero wondered. 

Behind him, a braided figure stood in the meagre shadow of a scrawny tree. His amethyst eyes narrowed as he focused on the name, written on the necklace in Heero's hand. 

_Why can't she leave him alone?_ He wondered furiously. _You've only met her once. Give her a chance, _reasoned Lady Helen's voice. 

Duo snorted. He didn't know why he was getting so worked up by this. It wasn't as though it in any way affected him. 

_I'm only being loyal to my knight master,_ Duo reassured himself. 

*

Quatre sniffed, breathing in the scent of the bubbling stew. It was being produced en masse, to feed the thousands of mouths that were already clamouring for their dinner. The blonde prince's stomach growled and Quatre smiled a little guiltily at one of the chefs. The man smiled indulgently back, and slipped the adorable boy a piece of the lamb that hadn't already made its way into the pot. 

Quatre smiled again in thanks, and strolled away, munching. Frowning suddenly, he paused. Ahead of him, alone by the tents, was a slender, silver blonde squire. Quatre stared openly as the youth's face came into view. He was beautiful. 

A catlike face, and a deep green eye flashed before his mind for a moment, superimposing itself over the silver-haired boy's features. 

Approaching the youth, he held out a hand. "I'm Quatre." He offered. 

The youth arched one pale eyebrow. "Ariel." He said shortly, ignoring the outstretched hand. Not offended, Quatre withdrew his hand. 

Where are you from?" he asked. Ariel glanced disparagingly at him, and away. "Dastrane, obviously. Maxwell."

"Duo comes from there!" Quatre said delightedly. "Any relation?"

If possible, the pale boy's aura became even colder. "Yes." He said shortly, pushing past Quatre. 

Quatre watched his straight figure stalk away through the bustling people, his head tilted. 

"What a strange person..." he mused. 

*

[1] The name came from a book I used to love when I was little, called the Silver Brumby. Belongs to Elyne Mitchell, not me.


	6. 6

Disclaimer: Not mine

*

Maisy nodded to the washwomen as she trotted down the row, a note for Trowa Green-eye scrunched in her fist. 

The sound of weary hooves drew her notice as a tired horse plodded slowly past. Astride his back, straight and tall despite his drained face and travel-worn clothes sat a gorgeous young man. Her breath caught in her throat, and she thought she would swoon (_not again,_ some part of her thought), when his slanted eyes caught hers for a moment, then dismissed her. His black hair, caught up in a tight ponytail, looked almost blue in the harsh light. 

Maisy sighed as she watched the mare drag herself and his rider away. An odd sort of hush followed them down the street. As they left her sight, Maisy felt a stab of self-pity. Why were all these noble soldiers so handsome, when none of them would ever look at her? 

She was sure someone up there must hate her. 

*

Wufei dismounted from Nataku, trying to hide the weakness in his leg. It would not do for him to be seen as anything less than strong. 

Striding up the hill, he strode into the largest tent, assuming that the most important man would be in there. He was right. 

Heero glanced up irritably, as the intruder stalked in. Behind him, Duo twisted around on his pallet to get a better look at the stranger. Heero's hand dropped to his sword hilt. 

"Yes?" he asked dangerously. The stranger glanced dismissively at him, "Who are you?"

Heero's eyes narrowed dangerously and Duo stood, ready to either restrain him, or aid his knight master. "I am Sir Heero Yuy. Who are you?" he snapped. The baka's arrogance was grating on his nerves. 

"Chang Wufei, the Solitary Dragon. I bring news from Fabrisia."

Heero straightened, shoving any personal dislike into a far corner of his mind. "Then tell us your news," he said in a tone usually reserved for imbeciles. Perhaps he wasn't quite so successful at hiding his distaste after all. 

A flush of anger spread over Wufei's features. "Jehon in the east has been destroyed by the Airmessens. The survivors are scattered, the buildings have been annihilated and the Airmessens are on the move."

Heero nodded brusquely, pulling a map out from the pile of parchment near his feet. Duo silently passed him a small bag, and Heero removed several colored stones from it. 

"Where exactly did you say they were?"

Wufei moved closer, pausing to shoot an incredulous look at Duo at the length of his hair. Duo gave him a sunny smile. Heero made an impatient noise, and Wufei hastily snatched the pebbles and placed them exactly where he had last seen the Airmessens. 

Heero frowned. He had been hoping for something like this, but now that he had it, he was more confused than ever. The stones, placed by Wufei and the others already on the map, made a pattern, but he didn't understand it, and couldn't imagine why the Airmessens would choose a shape like that. 

Behind him, a shadow of worry crossed over Duo's face, as he stared at the shape formed on the map. Where had...? Oh yes. 

The pebbles formed the exact shape of the little golden star. 

Yet somehow, after stumbling across this odd similarity, the information slipped through Duo's mind like water, and once again, lay forgotten. 

*

Duo yelped as he felt the earth below his feet slipping. Quatre grabbed his shoulder, and Duo gave a grateful smile to the little blonde. 

The two squires were searching for firewood. In a camp such as theirs, fuel disappeared faster than a rat up a drainpipe. Over the past few weeks, the firewood in the area had gradually been disappearing, and they had to roam further and further out to find it. 

Duo could hear the rushing water of the river as it babbled below the steep hill they were climbing. He wondered exasperatedly why Yhman had so many bloody hills. At least there was some shade on this one. A few decades ago, The deceased Queen Aiileya had ordered a timber plantation here. Currently the trees were bare, but their thick, interlacing branches provided dappled cover. 

Quatre smiled at him. "So...." he said after a gap in the conversation. "What was it like in Maxwell?"

Duo shrugged. "It was... nice. Homey. Now that I think about it, it really was the perfect place to grow up, apart from my cousins. But... I'm glad I'm out of there, in a way. There is such a thing as too much security."

Quatre nodded. "I met someone the other day," he said slowly "who came from Maxwell. His name was Ariel, and he got rather angry when I mentioned you."

Duo nodded. "He's my cousin. He's a real evil bastard, not literally of course. He would kill himself if a drop of common blood were to soil his pure veins!" the braided boy said dramatically. 

Quatre, surprisingly, frowned. "I don't think so. I have... I suppose it's a sixth sense. I'm not boasting, honestly. I'm a very good judge of people's characters though. And he doesn't seem like such an awful person to me. A snob, yes. Sneaky, yes. Ambitious, definitely. But evil? I don't think so."

Duo wasn't so sure about that. Ariel was a jealous little sadist, and always would be. 

As they reached the ridge of the hill, the two boys paused for a break. Below them, through the bleak tree trunks, they could see the twisting ribbon of the river. 

Quatre stood still for a moment, his legs feeling heavy. In his country, the land was mostly flat, and he was still unused to uphill travelling. As he paused, his eyes narrowed. He could see movement, down at the base of the hill. Black... shadows? flickered through those of the trees. 

Quatre's blood ran cold. 

And the shadows were moving. They were too squat for deer, the only large animal in the area. And... Were those wings? "Fins," Quatre whispered, "they're fins."

"Airmessens!" Duo hissed, his hand locking around Quatre's wrist.

The squires pelted back the way they came, stumbling and slipping on the shaky soil. A rock came loose under Quatre's feet, and the blonde squire fell, and rolled through the tree trunks, until finally he collided with one, knocking the wind out of him. Duo ran after him, reaching him just as the first catlike face reached the crest of the hill. 

Duo swore as Quatre stood, a little shaky but stable enough, and they resumed their flight. 

The headlong race with the Airmessens passed in a blur for Quatre, and later he found it hard to remember anything. His head ached, and the world seemed to spin around him. 

Duo was torn. On one hand, the army _had_ to know the Airmessens were approaching. On the other, Quatre was moving slowly, and there was a dazed look in his blue eyes. The braided boy growled in frustration, as he raced back yet again to his friend. 

Some yards away, Trowa was searching for the errant squires. They had been gone far longer than they should have been. His sensitive picked up the sound of fleeting footsteps, and then slower, more uncertain treads. 

Trowa spun, just in time to see the two figures break free of the forest. The urgency in their movements bothered him, and as he approached he spotted the telltale braid. Behind them, a finned head slipped into view.

Trowa assessed the situation in an instant. Running to Quatre, he scooped up the blonde boy, and leaped after Duo towards the camp. 

Behind them the lead Airmessens wasn't keen on leaving the cover of the forest. It paced back and forth on its strong legs, eyes glimmering, though it was impossible to tell where the pupil-less eyes were looking. 

The three had just reached the borders of the camp when the pack charged from the safety of the forest. 

Bells tolled from the makeshift watchtowers as the glimmering black creatures approached, their long strides eating at the space between them and the camp. Now that they had left the cover of the trees, it was clear there were at least a dozen of them. 

Duo darted away from Trowa, and tore up the hill towards their tent. As he reached the top and pushed through the flaps, he saw Heero's sword was already gone. Grabbing his own from his blankets, Duo spun around and loped back down the hill. The women and children toiling up in the opposite direction, trying to find the safest place, were slowing him down. Duo became caught up in the flow, and was slowly being pushed further and further from the scene of battle. He could hear the roars of warriors, but the Airmessens remained eerily silent. 

Finally Duo broke free of the crowd, and practically flew the rest of the way. 

The Airmessens, in the short time since their appearance, had managed to destroy three watchtowers and at least thrice that many tents. Now the creatures were fighting on the ripped fabric remains, and, impossibly, seemed to be winning. There were at least ten men for each Airmessens, and hundreds more ringed the battle scene. Duo searched fruitlessly for Heero, but could see no sign of the cobalt-eyed knight. 

A cry drew his attention, as first one man, then another, was thrown across the circle of watching soldiers. At once, every man turned to look at his neighbours, with one thought running through their minds. All it took was for one to voice that thought. 

"CHARGE!"

The army thundered forward, pinning the Airmessens in their midst. This seemed to daunt even those beings, as they began fight their way towards the edge of the camp. One by one, the creatures were felled, until the last two were mere shadows, streaking back into the protection of the forest. 

Duo sat with his sword on his knees, panting. Blood dripped from his wounded hand and pooled in his palm. Something prompted him to look up, and his eyes looking instantly onto the figure of a squire, his red hair seeming strangely dull in the strong sunlight. 

It was Ariel. His normally moon pale hair was dyed a deep crimson as the blood seeped from a wound on his head. The hind claw of an Airmessens had clipped him. He was not unduly concerned, as head wounds always bled more than others. 

His knight-master, Sir Bredingwhaith, strode towards him. The portly knight was uninjured, and even his hair was unruffled. Ariel felt a smattering of disgust for the man, a coward and a craven. Ariel might not be the most moralistic of nobles, not by a long shot, but he despised cowards, along with tattle-tales and usurpers. 

"By the gods, boy, you'd better get that head bandaged quick smart!" huffed Bredingwhaith. Ariel gave a sullen nod, and turned on his heel towards the medics' tent. Behind him, Bredingwhaith bristled at being dismissed by the insolent cur. That arrogant young cub could use some manners. 

*

Heero scowled at the nicks in his blade. Airmessens were never easy opponents, and for some reason they seemed stronger when fighting in groups. 

His mind was working uneasily, plotting the Airmessens positions on his mental map. They didn't quite fit the star shape, and were just a bit out of alignment. Even more troubling was their emergence from the forest. No one was sure whether the Airmessens were merely intelligent and vicious animals or whether they thought like humans. Most people tended to opt for the former, believing if they looked like animals, they thought like them. 

Heero had learned long ago not to judge by appearance. 

The Airmessens were forming a pattern with their attacks. They were systematically annihilating food sources. They were using political situations, such as in Fabrisia, to their advantage. 

Random acts? Not likely. 

Heero's head snapped up as Duo walked past. The squire hadn't noticed him in the milling men, and Heero reached out to grab his elbow. Duo winced as he swung around, Heero's eyes locking on to the bloody scratch that ran along his palm. He raised his gaze in question. 

"Someone was careless with their knife." Duo said shortly. 

Heero nodded, and turned towards the hill and their tent, hand still wrapped around Duo's elbow. 

Once inside, Heero snatched up a roll of bandage, conveniently placed on his flimsy table, and slumped into the single chair. Without comment, Duo offered his hand. 

"You were the first to see them?" Heero asked, already knowing the answer. Without waiting for a reply he continued, "They must have crossed the river at the ford. I told Treize we needed a guard post there, but 'Fabrisia is top priority...' " 

Duo stared. Was Heero _grumbling?_

Heero continued to list all the security measures that should have been placed around the camp as he bandaged Duo's hand. Duo watched the bandage unwind with an almost hypnotic concentration. His hand was no longer stinging, and he felt detached from the situation. He wondered briefly if he had hit his head like Quatre, but quickly dismissed the idea.

Duo wasn't sure how he should react to his first real skirmish. The sudden charge of the crowd had been preceded by an almost electric tension running around the ring of watching eyes. The hunger for bloodshed had been almost tangible, and Duo had found himself caught up in the ambience. 

*

Wufei frowned as he surveyed the scene of the fight. The trampled canvas and churned earth clearly marked the site. Wufei was more than a little disturbed by the regularity of the marks. In particular, the clear imprints of the Airmessens claws. That particular shape had been popping up far too often lately. 

Wufei grimaced in distaste as he skirted around the mutilated corpse of one of the Airmessens. Yellow, ichorous blood seeped from the remains, and one empty silver eye stared up at him. 

Turning away from the carcasses, Wufei became aware of the circumspect stares directed at him. 

Shaking his head, Wufei dismissed the thoughts. He had no time for weaklings. 

*

Well, this one was a little bit shorter than the rest, sorry. Thankyou to the Peace Person for betaing, and thanks to everyone else who reviewed chapter 5. That's about it. I'll try to get the next one out faster. 


	7. 7

Disclaimer: Not mine

Also, something strange is going on, and nothing I can do to denote scene/POV changes is working, If anyone knows why, please help. Apart, from that, there are only three scene changes: from Duo to Ariel, and then from Ariel to Andreguo, and finally from Andreguo back to Duo. 

Heero blinked, watching the silhouettes of soldiers through the cloth of his tent. Since the attack, every man in the camp was on his toes, and every second night there was a false alarm. Watchtowers were being built closer to the river so that they would be useful for the watch shifts.

Heero turned back to his papers, absorbing the news he had recieved. Fabrisia, so far, had been left alone, although the Airmessens were still hovering menacingly near the border. Greye's prince had been killed in battle, and the Hastrosian peasants were mutinous, demanding more protection. 

But the news that really interested Heero was from his own country. An attack had been made on the capital, Ferith. Treize had escaped unharmed, as had the Royal Princess of Sanq. The problem now was where they could go for safety. Ferith was overrun, and there was no hope of recovering it in the near future. 

So, instead of going to their allies, Treize, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to tour the war camps, to "boost morale," or so he said in his letter. Naturally, Relena would be joining him. Her father had protested strongly, but Relena was adamant. She thought that the people needed her, and was suffering from Heero-withdrawal. 

The 'tour' was to begin at Jamice in Greye, and continue down the border. They would arrive in Yhman within a fortnight. 

Heero gave a loud sigh. Relena. Here. His brain refused to connect the two words, not wanting to accept their meaning. Behind him, Duo approached slowly, absorbed in his meagre lunch. The braided boy paused as he observed Heero's slumped figure, and frowned in concern. 

"Heero?"

The cobalt-eyed knight turned, his body straightening. Duo looked him over, worried by what he saw. Dark rings encircled the blue eyes, and the slightly flushed face was strained and exhausted. Putting down his bowl, Duo sat next to his knight-master. 

"You feel ok? You don't look so good." He commented. 

Heero shrugged off his fears, "It's nothing- just a headache."

Duo accepted Heero's answer, though he was still uneasy. "So what's all this?" he asked, picking up his lunch again. 

"Correspondence. Ferith is overrun, and Treize and Relena are coming here." Heero replied glumly. Duo winced. _The pink princess herself..._

Looking at Heero, Duo became more and more certain that something was wrong. Heero was sweating slightly, and his eyes were dull and glazed. 

"Heero, I think you should see a doctor. We can't afford to have you falling sick now. C'mon, there's a good one in the camp." Duo grabbed Heero's hand and pulled gently. Heero shook his head. 

"They're all busy enough without me bothering them about a headache." He said, as reasonably as he could. Heero wondered vaguely why it was so hot. 

"I really think you should-" 

"Shut up! I'm fine. I don't need your help!" Heero snapped. Duo dropped his hand as though it were a snake. 

"Fine. See if I care." He snarled, and stormed out of the tent. 

_Why is that guy such a pig?_ Duo wondered furiously. _I was just trying to help..._

Without thinking about it, his feet followed the familiar path to Quatre and Trowa's tent. With a flash of guilt, Duo realised he hadn't gone to check up on his friend after his fall, and the subsequent chase. 

Opening the flap without a pause, Duo grinned at the surprised Trowa. Then his eyes dropped the Quatre, who was lying with his head in Trowa's lap and a damp cloth over his eyes. Duo's own eyes widened speculatively at the protective glare Trowa lowered at him. 

Quatre lifted the cloth and peered at Duo. He smiled, but remained silent. Surprisingly, Trowa spoke for him. "Quatre has a headache. He got a concussion when he hit his head."

Duo nodded, and quietly tiptoed away, feeling he wasn't wanted. He wondered at the relationship between Quatre and his uni-banged knight master. He doubted that it was purely platonic, whether or not the two realized it. 

Duo caught himself contemplating the idea of such a relationship between himself and Heero, and snapped off that thought like a brittle twig. It was an impossibility, and he didn't know why he'd thought if it in the first place. Heero was an insufferable git, as proved by his comments earlier. 

The thought of the argument, and what had provoked it, naturally sent his eyes drifting towards the medic's tent, where they locked onto a scarlet sign.

_Quarantine_

Dread crept through Duo. Every army's worst nightmare was disease, the silent killer. In situations like these; crammed, dirty and insect-ridden; plague was almost inevitable. 

A passing surgeon saw Duo's horrified face. "Be careful who you talk to, boy. Don't know who's got it." 

Duo swung around. "What are the symptoms?" he asked quickly. 

The man shrugged. "The early signs are a fever, headache and abrupt mood swings. After that comes the..." But Duo was already gone, pelting up the hill towards the tent at the crest. 

_Oh God, not Heero, _please_ not Heero..._

Ariel scowled as his grey mare was led away. Sir Bredingwhaith's mount had contracted colic and died, so Ariel's ever _in_considerate knight master had commandeered Ariel's beautiful Sirasri. The mare had been the last present he had recieved from his father. 

It seemed irrational to get worked up over this. It would do him no good. So he bottled up his anger inside his head, refusing to let it see daylight until it was ready to aid his cause. 

Still, he couldn't completely hide his loathing for the fat knight beside him, and chose to disguise it as a childish sulk. A heavy hand descended on his shoulder, and Bredingwhaith beamed at him. 

"It's just a horse, Ari my lad, no need to look so put out. You'll get another one soon."

Ariel almost snarled at the man as Sirasri disappeared from view. He hated Bredingwhaith, pitied himself and _loathed_ the nickname Ari. 

Bredingwhaith was right; he would be getting another horse soon. Since so many of the animals had died, due to poor feed and noxious weeds in the area, Yhman had a flourishing horse trade. Ariel had seen those beasts, and had no illusions as to what sort of nag he would be getting. Worse still, Bredingwhaith knew the value of Sirasri, and there had been no mention of returning her when he found another horse. 

Bredingwhaith, perhaps sensing the latent fury, tousled Ariel's silver-blonde hair and strode away to inspect his new horse. 

Ariel turned on his heel. He knew he looked like a sulking child, and didn't care. In a way, some part of his mind mused, he _was_ merely a cross child. But the rest of Ariel refused to dignify that with a response. 

He watched with detachment as people rushed through the camp, but it suddenly occurred to him that people were rarely busy at this time of day. He grabbed the wrist of a passing man from his position in the shade. "What's going on?" he demanded. The man stared at Ariel as though he would bite him. 

"The plague," he muttered, "the plague is here." Ariel dropped his wrist and leapt back, scanning the man for signs of illness. Thankfully the stranger appeared fine. "Symptoms?" Ariel barked. 

The man's eyes slid towards the safety of his own tent, but he replied "Starts off with a fever or a headache, then mood swings. Then you faint, and sometimes cough up bile. After that, you go unconscious. That's as far as the first case has gotten so far, but fifty people have already been quarantined, it's that contagious."

The man had been out long enough. He dashed away into the rapidly thinning crowd, and Ariel let him go. 

He couldn't help but hope Bredingwhaith contracted the disease, or at least a mild case of it, only so that the fat pig couldn't ride. For a moment, he was appalled at himself, but quickly shrugged it off. The bastard had taken Sirasri, after all. 

Dormien Andreguo paced the length of his high, yet narrow tent. Things were slowly slipping into position. But it was too slow. He fiddled with the thick chain around his neck, toying with the pendant hanging off it. Progression needed to speed up. There was only so much time before the mountain passes in Greye were blocked with ice and snow. The plan had to be executed and the evidenced destroyed before the passes closed.

A noise from the corner of his tent drew his attention. He made an impatient sound, strode over, and slammed the wicker lid down on the basket. The creature inside hummed and rustled. Damned thing was getting too big for its basket. 

A new stage would commence within the week. His allies were forming, and his control over the camp was growing. He clenched his hand into a fist, pleased with the mobility. All his life, his left hand had been afflicted with a crippling arthritis.

Moving to the flap of the tent, he shot a warning glance towards the wicker basket. A murmur issued from within. Shaking his head in disgust, he left the tent. 

Duo burst into the tent, and watched as Heero's head turned _so_ slowly towards him. Duo dropped to his knees beside him, and felt his forehead. Heero had a fever.

The dazed blue eyes looked at him for a moment, unrecognising, then Heero made a tiny mewling sound, and passed out. Duo caught him, looking around helplessly. 

"Yuy?" came an incredulous voice. Duo turned to see Wufei, standing nervously at the opening of the tent, staring at Heero's crumpled form.

"Don't just stand there!" Duo snapped. Wufei jerked into action, moving towards them, and helping Duo pick up the taller knight. 

Slowly they made their way down the hill. Hushed whispers followed them. The soldiers were frightened. Sir Heero was their luck. He was, in their minds at least, the only thing holding this little camp together. And he had the plague. 

"Maxwell!" Wufei hissed. "We have to get Yuy out of sight. Morale is low enough already."

Duo nodded, and together they manoeuvred Heero into the medical tent. There was a shocked silence as they entered. Stunned eyes turned towards them, and zeroed in on the limp form in their arms. Then a field-nurse gasped, and the spell was broken. Medics abandoned their patients, conscious and unconscious, to crowd around them, all determined to be the saviour of Sir Yuy. 

Duo was shouldered impatiently to the side, and Wufei was collared and hurriedly questioned. Apparently the medics knew his reputation, and decided he was far more important than the lost looking squire in the corner. 

Duo watched as Heero was man-handled onto a sturdy camp bed in the corner, and partitioned off with a few dirty blankets. Somewhere during the transition, Heero awoke briefly, looking around wildly and muttering in his native language, before he relapsed into a tense sleep. 

Slowly the knot of people dispersed to their various patients, and Duo carefully parted the blankets and stood awkwardly beside Heero's limp form. A rustle behind him alerted him to the arrival of the head surgeon. 

The balding man peered at Duo over his glasses. "You da squahr?" he asked. Duo frowned, confused for a moment, before translating the strange accent. "Yeah, I'm his squire."

The wizened man nodded. "You wait dere!" he barked, pointing to the opposite corner. Duo moved obediently to the corner, watching as the man plunked a bulging kit down on the end of Heero's bed. He reverently removed half a dozen odd, wood and metal objects, and a small, carefully padded jar of leeches. 

Duo winced as he watched the squirming black worms. He hated leeches. The thought of willingly allowing worms to suck his blood disturbed him more than a little. He watched as the slimy creatures were placed to the side, and one of the metal instruments was pushed down Heero's throat. 

"Hmmm.... de tonsils appear fine." The doctor said, removing the thing briskly. "So it's definitely not just a cold." 

He began to slowly unscrew the lid of the jar. Inside, a long black leech stretched up towards his hand. Duo felt sick. 

"I'll be back, Heero," he said quickly, and darted outside. 

Outside, he took a couple of deep breaths. 

_Heero's sick. Dozens of other people are too, and the doctors have never seen this disease before. But there's no reason to worry right now. No one has died...yet._

Duo instantly regretted thinking that last word. 

A familiar head of silver blonde hair bobbed past, and Duo called out to him. Ariel turned, his eyes growing cold as he saw who had called out to him. 

"Yes?" he asked, his tone icy. Duo hesitated. He wasn't sure exactly why he had stopped Ariel from doing whatever it was he was doing; it just felt natural at the time. 

"If you're just going to stand there, I'm leaving." 

"No, wait," Duo said quickly. "Look, have you heard anything from Gerohn?" 

Ariel looked at him as though he were insane. "And why would I be communicating with that brainless lump of lard?" 

Duo blinked. "Well, he_ is_ your brother. Not to mention that any inheritance you get will come from him."

Ariel's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't count on it." He said dangerously. 

Confused, Duo stepped back. Ariel took this as his chance to escape. 

_What the hell did he mean by that? Gerohn will inherit everything their father has, which isn't much, and the most Ariel can hope for is a farm or two, even if Gerohn is generous. What does he mean, "I wouldn't count on it?"_

Uneasily, Duo recalled an incident from their childhood. Lord Fandes had come to visit at Maxwell, and brought gifts for the family. The man had been embarrassed and apologetic, when he discovered that Lord Maxwell's brother had three sons, instead of the two he had expected. It was only a little thing, but the expression on Ariel's face after everyone's back had been turned... 

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Duo turned, and headed in the direction of their tent. With a pang he realised that for the next few days, maybe even weeks, the tent would be his alone. 

But a small hand tapped his shoulder, and Duo turned to face the little maid he knew vaguely as Maisy. "Squire Duo, you can't leave. You have to stay here." the girl told him, carefully. Duo turned on his heel, and instantly started for the tent where he'd left Heero. She blinked; they didn't usually take it this well. Maisy once again tapped his shoulder. 

"No, Master Duo. You have to go to the Quarantine area, not the sick tent."

Duo spun around again, his mind curiously blank. Wufei sat, already, in the roped off section of the camp. It was filling fast, and Duo detachedly made a mental note to get a tent as close to the sick tent as possible, in case something happened to Heero. At that thought, he woke up a little. 

Nothing will happen to Heero, He reassured himself.

Thanks to the peace person, once again, for betaing. And I was wondering, do you want a 13x5 pairing?


	8. 8

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing (except my cat and a box of Timtams, which have mysteriously gone missing. Now that I think about it, I don't own the cat either...)

* * *

Three weeks. Three weeks since Heero had been quarantined. Three weeks since the plague had ripped through their forces. And three weeks since Duo had left this goddamn camp!

The original army camp had been split into three. The healthy, the sick and the quarantined. Quarantine was by far the largest, followed by the sick. The healthy camp was so miniscule it hardly counted, and consisted mainly of people rich enough to bribe their way out of the quarantine camp. In short, if they were attacked now, they were done for.

The Airmessens knew it too. Their menacing figures could be seen prowling the river bank, taunting, just close enough to set the back of Duo's neck prickling. And not just his. The air in the camp was horrific. A heavy expectancy hung in the air. An empty fatalism assured everyone that they were doomed, although not one of them dared to say it, as though voicing it would somehow make it true.

Suspicion and fear danced wildly through their minds. As much as a cough or a headache was enough to brand you a plague victim, although not nearly enough to get you into the sick tents.

On top of everything, the royal visit was pushing ahead. It had been delayed for a week or so, on a vague hope that the plague would miraculously disappear. When no such wonder was forth-coming, Treize had decided to continue with his original course. With Relena in tow, naturally.

Try as he might, Duo couldn't bring himself to care that in a very few days, his king would be exposed to the plague. His thoughts of late were very simple. Almost all of them circled around Heero.

Duo hadn't seen his knight-master since the day the plague had broken out. The sick continued to fall into their comas, and not a one had woken. He tried to take some comfort from that fact that none of them had died either, but he wasn't sure that eternal sleep was any better than death.

Trowa had been admitted to the sick tents yesterday, and Quatre was frantic. So far the blonde squire, along with Duo and Wufei, had remained free of the disease, but according to most, it was only a matter of time before they all fell prey to the silent killer.

Wufei was not reacting well to confinement. He stalked the perimeters daily, his head down and his movements short and angry. He had been oddly disturbed by the news of Treize's eminent arrival. Ordinarily, Duo's interest would have been piqued, but now it was nothing worth bothering over.

From where he sat on a log, Duo could see the figures of two young medics scurrying towards him over the swathe of land that served as a barrier between the two camps. Daily the medics would emerge, checking for signs of the plague and desperately seeking volunteers. As they approached, their hungry, tired eyes glued themselves to his form.

Hopefully they smiled at him, as the plain brown-haired man opened his mouth to deliver his little speech on sacrifice for his country and helping humanity. _What the hell,_ thought Duo. _They're just going to keep coming back, and I'm going to die anyway._

"I'm coming already." He said, cutting off the man, and stepping towards the no man's land between the two groups of tents. It had come to be an almost mythical thing in the camp. 'Crossing the gap' was the point of no return.

Duo could feel eyes on his back. It was rare for anyone to accept the medic's proposals. As he entered the first of the tents, his mind was forcefully pulled from them. Row upon row of silent, still bodies littered to huge covered area. Among them their carers walked, but they were far and few.

It hadn't dawned on Duo before exactly how many soldiers had already succumbed to the disease. _It's like a village of the dead,_ he thought, then instantly regretted it. A hand landed on his shoulder.

"Ah, is de square, no? You can help Mika, de mute. Over dere!" barked the head surgeon. Duo nodded, and hurried towards the waiting youth. An exhausted smile greeted him. A hand guestured, communicating that Duo should work on the last row of beds. Duo approached them, worry creasing his features. Heero was in the centre bed, with Andreguo and Ariel's knight-master, Breadwane or something, flanking him.

Watching Mika, Duo realised exactly how helpless the doctors were. The treatment consisted mainly of cool cloths on the fevered and unconscious faces. Then again, when you considered the several thousand faces, it was still a pretty massive task.

He snatched up a cloth from the bucket sitting on the floor, and approached Heero. Fear washed through him as he saw how pale and still the knight was. For a moment, Duo honestly believed he was dead. Now that he looked closely though, he could see the miniscule rise and fall of his chest.

Gingerly wiping Heero's face, Duo felt a wave of emotion, for the first time in weeks. Heero couldn't die. He just couldn't. He was too needed, there was too much to do. People needed him. The king needed him. _Everyone_ needed him.

Duo needed him.

* * *

Quatre strained to see some sign of life in the tents across the bare ground. Trowa was gone. He had caught the plague, and, somewhere in that godforsaken hole of a camp, was dreaming his life away.

He let out an audible sob at the thought. Quatre had always been emotional; he believed emotion was what made you human. He had been forced to watch as the life slowly sapped out of Duo, as Wufei drove himself relentlessly to pace. Throughout it, Trowa had been a voice of quiet reason and comfort. He hadn't realised how much he'd relied upon the brown-haired archer.

Quick, angry footsteps alerted him to Wufei's arrival. A bit of news that had earlier slipped his mind once again rose to the surface. "The royal party from Dastrane will be arriving today, instead of later." He said casually. The footsteps stopped.

Behind him, Wufei was scowling ferociously, glaring at the ground as though it were the source of all evil. His ponytail, usually so high and tight, was tied loosely at the base of his neck, and black strands were escaping to curl along his jaw line, accenting the feline slant of his dark eyes. He looked almost child-like. Vulnerable.

To Wufei's eternal gratitude, there was no one to witness his momentary weakness. Quatre's back was turned to him, the blonde's eyes fixed unwaveringly on the line of tents, so close and yet so far.

Behind them, another figure was watching. Ariel, alone in the thousands of quarantined, stood to the side and observed their fretting with disdain. Whatever happened to the rest, Ariel knew he wasn't going to die here. As if he would ever succumb to something as minor as a plague.

That annoyingly factual part of his mind was insistently informing him that he was an idiot, and that he was fooling himself. But Ariel was very good at ignoring that little voice (whom he'd recently dubbed Gregoric). Gregoric had promptly informed him that while hearing voices was a sign of madness, _naming_ them was a symptom of absolute irretrievable insanity. Ungrateful git.

In fact, he could definitely see a bright side to this whole situation. After everyone but he was dead, the glory of the sole survivor would be his. And best of all, there would be no more Duo! (At this point Gregoric went into a snit and stopped talking to him altogether. Ariel was not unduly upset).

The white-blonde wasn't sure why he was watching Duo's… acquaintances? friends? … but now that he was, he was going to do it properly. Gregoric (who was now, apparently, done ignoring him) told him dryly that he made no sense and was mad besides.

Ariel's attention was diverted from his inner argument with Gregoric by the tent he was leaning on. It was talking to him. Or at least burbling at him.

Curious, Ariel opened the flap. So what if the owner caught him? They were all going to die soon anyway. Ariel just wished they'd hurry up with it.

The tent clearly belonged to a wealthy man. A small trestle bed lay along one side of the tent. The burbling was coming from a small basket. Approaching, Ariel carefully lifted the lid.

A pair of silver eyes looked up. Ariel let loose a cry and tumbled back. Gregoric screamed at him to get out, get help, do something, anything but what he was currently contemplating.

Ariel picked himself up carefully, and warily approached the basket. The Airmessens kitten burbled curiously at him. Delicate fins turned towards him, as the tiny creature focussed all its attention on the strange, pale being before it. Ariel returned the favour, slowly reaching out a hand towards it. A surprisingly warm nose was pushed into his palm.

The infant Airmessens was happy. Not only had the Cold One been gone for days, but now this Pale Child had come to visit it. Perhaps Pale Child had brought food. It couldn't smell any, but then, its sense of smell wasn't well developed yet.

Ariel carefully moved to stroke the top of the creature's head. The smooth scales felt pleasantly cool against his skin, and the Airmessens stretched happily. It was unbelievable that this docile animal was related to the vicious killers Ariel had met before.

Gently lifting the kitten out of the basket, Ariel placed it on the floor, even as Gregoric screamed furiously at him. It stumbled a little at first, on its strong legs, before standing steadily, and looking around with the bright eyed curiousity attributed to all young creatures.

Ariel's brain was working at the speed of light, or at least sound. Something fast, anyway, it didn't matter. What mattered were the possibilities that this animal presented. Forget being a sole-survivor, when he could be the first to _tame an Airmessens._ Imagine what they'd say. They sure as hell wouldn't compare him to Duo then.

Of course, there was the little matter of whoever had brought the kitten here. And then the even littler issue of where they had gotten it in the first place, but he was confident that would all sort itself out.

By this point Gregoric was frantic, pleading with him to leave the tent. Sometimes Ariel suspected Gregoric was a coward, and a little mad besides, although he would never tell him that. Putting the kitten back into it's basket, he picked the whole thing up, and just walked out.

* * *

Treize shielded his eyes against the bright sun, as it leapt out from behind as cloud, as thought trying to surprise him. But playing games with the sun was the last thing on Treize's mind.

He knew as well as anyone that the situation was desperate. A border camp of several hundred in Hastros had been destroyed. Annihilated, without a trace. Yet Treize had faith in humanity. Yes, humans were the cruellest creatures in the world, and perhaps the world would indeed be better off without them. That didn't mean they were going to give up. Humans are also the most resourceful creatures, and they weren't going to be beaten by some dumb animals.

But were the Airmessens simply dumb animals? Treize doubted it, as did everyone. But it was easier, for everyone, if they were just animals, instead of sentient beings with thoughts and dreams and feelings. Because that would humanise them. And then the hate wouldn't be as strong, as pure, as venomous.

Beside him, Relena sat side-saddle on her palomino mare, admiring the pretty pink ribbons in her white mane, and playing with matching ribbons in her own hair.

Her darling Heero was sick! Of course, he would need her with him. She would nurse him back to health, and when he was well enough to go down on one knee, he would propose and they would be married in a huge ceremony with flowers and…

One thing at a time, she reminded herself, delighted by her cleverness in remembering such a useful piece of advice.

A little behind them, yet another blonde rode, this time astride the bay gelding, and flanked by Zechs. Her name was Dorothy Catalonia, and as she glared out from under her… interesting eyebrows, men shuddered from the mere force of her eyes. She had told Treize repeatedly that she didn't want to come. Then she told him that she couldn't come. Then she'd flat out screamed at him that she was not coming. Dorothy was normally a dangerously composed individual, but the thought of weeks with Relena will do that to a person.

Zechs jerked on the reins of his own horse. He'd heard the rumours, although he'd neglected to tell Treize. The Dragon was in Yhman. Angry memories played in his head, as he thought of the boy. Because he was only a boy, and a childish one at that. Treize could do so much better than that little twit, and Zechs had been delighted when their relationship had fallen in tatters, sending Chang on his way, and leaving a very inconsolable Treize in his wake. Unfortunately Treize hadn't seemed to want much consoling from Zechs.

Still, with Chang in the camp, things were likely to be very interesting. Zechs wasn't going to allow Chang another chance with his liege. It was for Treize's own good.

If, Zechs reasoned, Treize didn't know that Chang was in the camp, then he couldn't go looking for him. There would be no way to stop Chang from knowing about Treize but that couldn't be helped. It wouldn't do Chang any good anyway.

With any luck, Chang would have caught this plague everyone kept talking about, and carked it already. _But I'm never so lucky_, Zechs thought sadly. _I'll make my own luck._

_

* * *

_

Ariel sat, observing the little animal that was currently chasing a fluff ball around his tent. For the first time in quite a while, he tuned in to Gregoric's babble in the back of his head.

_…told you it was trouble. You're a seriously jerky bastard, you know that? You just found a **baby Airmessens** in a **tent**, and all you do is pick it up and take it home! You know how many men those things have killed! Thousands upon thousands! It'll kill us too, see if it doesn't!_

Us? remarked Ariel mentally. I wasn't aware there was an us. 

A brief pause.

_Of course there's an us, you idiot! We're the same bloody person!_

Well then shouldn't it be me?__

_Yes… no… I don't know! Why are you asking me? I'm not the crazy one here! I'm not talking to voices in my head!_

You **are** the voice in my head. I don't see how that's so much better. 

_Being better has nothing to do with what you are. I'm just plain better than you. If I were in charge of this body, I'd use it for good things. _

Well you're not, so sucks to you. 

_Language! If you'd just stop being a self-centred little child for a moment, I'd be eternally grateful. _

Eternally? Hmm…__

_And Mr Loopy crawls out of hiding! You **are** mad, admit it. _

I am not!

_Someone's in denial._

Yeah, you are. 

_You are such a child. Could you please get over yourself and do something about the **Airmessens chewing on our foot!!**_

Ariel blinked. The baby Airmessens had one of his leather shoe-strings in its sharp little teeth, and was having the time of its life.

Gingerly rescuing his shoe-string, Ariel offered the creature some dried jerky he'd stolen earlier. As it ate, he debated on a name.

_A name?__ A **name?!** First you name me, than you name an Airmessens?_

Relax Gregoric. You're getting hysterical. What do you think of Cime?

**_I'm_**_ getting hysterical?_

_

* * *

_

****

There you go. Sorry it took so long for me to get this out. I'm just… easily distracted. J.


End file.
